


Lamb and Martyr

by theodora_honey



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (but fucked up), Adam is not nice (in this fic), Anal Sex, Angst, Ass to Mouth, Bad Touch, Belting, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Cheating, Deepthroating, Distension, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Endgame Sheith, Eventually there will be comfort for all this hurt I swear, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Photography Kink, Praise Kink, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sexual Domination, Sexual Violence, Size Difference, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Virgin Keith (Voltron), flagellation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theodora_honey/pseuds/theodora_honey
Summary: He’s still so angry from the fight earlier, still has so much he wants to say to Shiro, so many verbal blows he wants to swing at him, so many buttons he wants to push. But Shiro’s not here, Shiro walked away just like he always does when things get tough between them. So really, can Adam even be blamed if he’s forced to find some other outlet for his frustration?And he has to admit that fucking Shiro’s precious little cadet is just the kind of revenge he’s looking for.Adam is drunk and stewing in anger when Keith presents him with an opportunity.He takes it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】Lamb and Martyr](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16780762) by [Pilgrim (makubesakuya)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makubesakuya/pseuds/Pilgrim)



> I'm so sorry to do Adam dirty like this, don't hate me it's just for the kink! 
> 
> Thanks to the discord for hearing me out. This is for you guys.
> 
> Edit: Available [here](http://makubesakuya.lofter.com/post/f5bf4_efbdbd7e) in Chinese thanks to makubesakuya!
> 
> Available [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7335825/18694173) in Russian thanks to verynervy!

He’s writing the night off as one of self-indulgent wallowing, alone and uninhibited in the festering resentment of his failing relationship and life in general. He knows it’s not good for him, and he’ll regret it when the hangover sets in tomorrow, but it’s what he needs right now. Alcohol takes away the edge - or maybe sharpens it to a fine point, it’s getting harder to tell - and he’s five drinks deep in misery when the knock comes at his door.

Irritated and opposed to company, he considers ignoring it. It’s not Shiro - Adam doubts the man is feeling bashful enough to be knocking at the door of his own quarters - and there’s no one else he can think of that would be worth answering for right now. Truth be told, even if it _were_ Shiro out there, Adam would be pleased to see him only so he could pick up their fight, hit him with all the blows he thought of too late, after Shiro had already walked away for the night. Whoever is waiting for him out there is better off being ignored else they risk facing Adam’s pent up anger, snarling and desperate for an easy target to lash out on.

But the knock sounds again, louder, and with a resentful sigh Adam throws back the last of his glass and drags himself up off his seat at the dinner table, stumbling just once on his way over.

The door slides open with the press of a button, and he finds himself looking down into dark, wide eyes and a perpetual pout hidden beneath a mess of black hair. That kid. Keith. Of course he’s here. He’s always here, isn’t he? Always following after Shiro like some scrawny, sad duckling that imprinted on the first creature to give it the time of day. Pathetic.

Adam gives an unimpressed sigh and rolls his eyes, turning back inside. Keith follows after him, stands in the entrance of the open room and looks around for Shiro as Adam slumps back into his seat.

“He’s not here,” he says, voice clipped with irritation as he pours himself another drink.

If Keith had any sympathy for him, he would turn around right there and leave, apologizing for being a nuisance. But of course he doesn’t. Not Keith, no, not mister hotshot who flaunts Shiro’s favoritism around as if it makes him untouchable. Instead he watches Adam with a judgemental look on his face, eyeing the way the amber liquid spills clumsily over the side of the glass and onto the table. Adam meets his eyes with a glare as he swipes the mess up with his thumb and brings it to his lips. Keith’s never liked him, and Adam knows exactly why. Shiro says he doesn’t like most people, and Adam doesn’t doubt that, but in this case there’s a deeper reason for it.

He’s jealous.

It’s cute, really. This lonely little brat who thinks he’s in love with his teacher and hates the boyfriend for it, thinks he could do a better job of being Shiro’s partner. He’s got no idea. It’s almost sweet how naive he is. But Adam’s had enough of it, and he’s in no mood to be civil.

“He told me he’d meet with me tonight,” Keith pouts, as if Adam could wave a wand and make Shiro magically appear, make him keep all his promises, follow through on the plans he makes with other people. If it were that easy, Adam wouldn’t be here feeding his misery and empty stomach with shitty liquor.

He sighs and leans back on his chair, arms raised in a shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you, kid. He’s not here. I don’t even know where he is, but I know for a fact he won’t be back tonight.”

“Oh,” says Keith, looking around the room. He looks disapproving and worried and hurt all at once.

“Stings, huh?” Adam says, unable to resist the urge to rub salt in someone else’s wounds. Keith's in particular. “You hoped he might come to you at a time like this, right? Maybe crawl up in your bed and let you kiss him better?”

Keith flushes red in embarrassment, but his eyes only glower with silent anger, facing Adam with clenched fists. It’s a fun reaction, and Adam can’t help wanting to push it further.

“What, don’t tell me you thought no one knew? Everyone can see how much you pine after him. Takashi knows as well. He’s never going to do anything about it, though. You know that, right? You’re just a child to him.”

That strikes a nerve. Adam bites back a smirk as he watches Keith’s composure stumble. He tries to keep the heartbreak off of his face, tries to mask it with anger, but still his chin trembles as he settles his mouth into a scowl.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Adam chuckles, taking a sip and topping his glass back up. “I get it, I really do. No one knows ‘waiting futilely on Takashi Shirogane’ better than I do, believe me. Come on, sit down.”

Keith seems to consider for a moment but then lowers himself onto the chair opposite Adam. He rests his hands on the dinner table, looking across from him, serious and determined, as if this were some face-off for Shiro’s hand. The expression sits ridiculously on his 16-year-old features. Adam snorts with laughter. It’s too much.

“Lighten up, kid. Here.” He passes Keith his own glass and takes a swing directly from the bottle, unflinching as the burn hits his throat. Keith takes a cautious sip of the drink and tries to suppress a shudder as he swallows it. Adam laughs again, and Keith fixes a determined look on his face as he downs the drink in one go, knocking the empty glass back on the table with a clink. Adam raises an eyebrow at him, quietly impressed. The kid’s plucky, stubborn, if nothing else. Like Shiro. Adam can see why he took a shine to the boy.

“Look, Keith,” he says. “He probably just forgot. We had a bit of a rough night. But he’ll make it up to you, I’m sure.”

Keith studies him, looking for a clue as to what went on between them. Not that he’s ever been too shy to ask about things that aren’t his business. “You guys fight or something?”

“Something like that,” Adam says. The worst fight they’ve ever had, though he's not going to tell Keith that. He’s not sure that they’re going to make it through this one. He wouldn’t be shocked if Shiro never came back. He doesn’t even know if he wants him to.

Keith swirls the base of his glass noisily over the table, deep in contemplation. Adam takes another gulp of liquor and looks over at him from the corner of his eye. Keith works his lower lip in between his teeth, gnaws on it, catching Adam’s attention, and suddenly a whole new realm of possibility opens up before him.

He fishes his personal comm out from his pocket and flicks through the files on it until he finds what he’s looking for. Smirking, he pushes the device across the table towards Keith. “Here, look at this.”

Keith looks down, and his eyes widen with shock as he whips his head away again, face flushed even brighter than before.

“No, it’s okay, you can look,” Adam says, amused. “I don’t mind, really.”

Keith cautiously meets his eyes first and Adam smiles and nods his head towards the device. Keith looks back at it, leaning over it and hungrily soaking up the image on display. His expression softens and his mouth drops open in a way that makes Adam smirk. Shiro’s always been photogenic, but this shot of him was particularly good. Adam remembers when he took it. They were fresh out of the shower together, and Shiro let the towel drop around his waist, his cock half-hard and resting along his thigh, beads of water still dripping down his chest. He smiled teasingly as Adam grabbed his comm and snapped a few pictures of him, before throwing him down on their bed and fucking him like their lives depended on it. It’s a good memory, one that Adam used to think back on a lot during long nights when Shiro was away on missions. But right now, all memories of Shiro feel tainted. Even this picture of him brings Adam no pleasure anymore.

The look on Keith’s face, however, does.

Adam rises and starts pacing slowly around the room, bottle in hand.

“Nice, right? Doesn’t he look good?” he says, the lightness of his tone cruel. “Look all you want, Keith, because you’re never going to see the real thing.”

Keith’s hands clench into fists on the table and his face twists back into a frown, but he says nothing, eyes still fixated on the picture of Shiro in front of him.

“This is what I get to come home to, every single day,” Adam says, leaning over Keith’s shoulder to look as well. He tops Keith’s glass off but Keith doesn’t make to drink again. “Great body. Pretty face. Perfect cock. I think half the Garrison would be after him if I hadn’t got there first. But he’s mine.” He snatches the comm out from under Keith’s nose and puts it back in his pocket.

“You can’t stop me from seeing him,” Keith says, his voice tight and serious.

Adam laughs and leans a hand on Keith’s shoulder, pushing his weight down on him. “I know,” he murmurs, and he realizes that Keith’s right. He had never felt the need to do so, but if he ever were to ask Shiro to stop spending so much time with this kid, he’s somehow absolutely certain that Shiro would refuse. The thought bristles him, but he stamps the feeling down, digging his fingers into Keith’s skin. It’s irrelevant anyway.

“You’re not a threat to me, Keith. That’s not what this is about.” He takes one more gulp from the bottle before setting it on the table and bringing his hand to Keith’s other shoulder, rubbing his thumbs over the muscle at the base of his neck. Keith tenses beneath his touch.

“He’ll never see you the way you want him to, though. You know that, right? He’s too good, he would never touch you.”

Keith’s head sinks and he exhales shakily, defeated and resigned. He already knows.

Adam leans in until he's so close to Keith he can feel the heat radiating off of him, smell the scent of his skin. He closes his eyes and smiles. “But I will, if you want,” he says, pressing his lips to Keith’s neck.

Keith stands with a jolt and steps away from him. Adam releases his grip but follows after him, backs him against a wall and traps him there with an arm between him and the door.

“Are you crazy?,” Keith whispers, eyes wide and staring up at him in shock. “I don’t even _like_ you. And Shiro--”

“I don’t like you either,” Adam interrupts, ducking down, pushing his way back into Keith’s space. Keith squirms and turns his head away, only exposing his neck for Adam to run his his finger up and down. “But think about it, Keith. This might be the closest you’ll ever get to him. Are you really going to turn that opportunity down? I can’t promise it’ll be on offer again.” He kisses Keith in a slow trail up his neck, under his jaw, and he can feel the boy’s pulse fire rapidly beneath his skin. Like a cornered animal.

Keith brings trembling hands to Adam’s chest as if to push him away, but there’s no force behind the action. His fingers tangle in Adam’s shirt instead as he gasps at each press of Adam’s lips to his skin.

“S-stop…” he murmurs. “I’ll tell Shiro…”

Adam chuckles. “And who’s he going to believe? His loyal partner of four years? Or a jealous brat with a crush and a habit of causing trouble?”

He starts to unbutton Keith’s cadet uniform, lost in the taste of Keith’s skin and the sound of his gasping breaths as he squirms beneath him. God, he _needs_ this. Suddenly, he’s hornier than he has been in weeks, and Keith is a temptation he just doesn’t have the will to resist tonight, drunk and bitter and miserable as he is. And he’s still so angry from the fight earlier, still has so much he wants to say to Shiro, so many verbal blows he wants to swing at him, so many buttons he wants to push. But Shiro’s not here, Shiro walked away just like he always does when things get tough between them. So really, can Adam even be blamed if he’s forced to find some other outlet for his frustration?

And he has to admit that fucking Shiro’s precious little cadet is just the kind of revenge he’s looking for.

He turns Keith’s face and finds his lips with his own, presses against them with his tongue until he forces his way inside and Keith finally opens up with a gasp. He licks into the boy’s mouth greedily and Keith moans, helplessly still, just letting Adam take what he wants and tolerating it as best he can. Adam pulls Keith’s jacket off his shoulders and slides his hands under the hem of Keith’s shirt, flattening his palms against his smooth stomach and pulling him in closer by the waist. He pushes one thigh between Keith’s legs and moves Keith against it, rutting up and down until he grows hard. Keith whines, starting to kiss back despite himself, pushing his tongue cautiously against Adam’s and gripping onto his shirt as if he needs it to keep himself upright. Adam smirks. Keith wants it, and that all he needs.

He chuckles as he pulls away to look at the boy, face red, lips swollen, eyes heavy and glazed over with shock. Adam’s never seen him look better. He steps back and reaches for the bottle of alcohol on the dinner table, takes a couple of swings from it as he admires Keith, panting and leaning back against the wall. He eyes Adam like a wounded animal, resigned to his fate and waiting for the jaws to close around his throat. He could easily make a break for the door now - Adam wouldn’t try to stop him, probably wouldn’t even make it in time even if he did - but Keith just stays and waits, watches Adam as he picks up the glass of liquor he poured earlier and pushes it into Keith’s hands.

“Well?” he asks, running hands over Keith’s shoulders and tugging lightly at the ends of his hair. “Are you interested? I can fuck you the way Takashi likes it, if you want.”

Keith looks up at him helplessly, looks to the glass in his hand as if contemplating his last chance to put a stop to this and leave, but then he takes a breath and tips it into his mouth, swallowing it all in one go again. He makes disgusted grimace and groans, wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

Adam smiles, victorious. “Come on,” he says, wrapping a hand round the back of Keith’s neck and leading him towards the bedroom.

Keith stumbles after him, allowing himself to be led to slaughter.

Adam pushes him up against a wall once they’re inside, kisses him with more fervor than ever and tugs at the rest of his clothes until they’re off and strewn carelessly on the floor. He runs his hands up and down Keith’s small body, over his chest and cute, hardened nipples, down to squeeze his small but squishy ass, tugging over his hard cock a couple of times. He delights in the way Keith shivers and whimpers at each touch. It’s been years since he’s fucked someone new and years more since he fucked someone this inexperienced and sensitive. He can barely wait to see Keith’s reaction when he pushes inside of him, fills him up and stretches him out, overwhelms him with cock. He wants to see Keith cry from it.

He pulls Keith with him as he backs up, sitting on the edge of the bed when it hits the backs of his legs. Keith makes to crawl onto his lap but Adam pushes him to the floor instead, spreading his legs and making room for Keith to kneel down between them. He looks up at Adam, arms resting along his thighs, his eyes wide and uncertain. He looks so small and meek down there, trapped and waiting to be directed, just how Adam wants him.

He caresses a hand through Keith’s hair, enjoying the nervous expression on his pretty face. It’s much better than the scowl he normally wears. “It’s okay,” Adam coos. “You can pretend I’m him. I don’t mind.” Keith swallows and looks down at the outline of Adam’s hard cock, visible through his pants, though he makes no move to do anything about it. Adam smirks. “Hey, you know what to do, right?” he says, making fun. He’s certain by Keith’s behavior that he’s never done anything like this before.

Nodding unconvincingly, Keith slowly unhooks Adam’s belt and works the button and fly of his pants, pulling them down with some help. Then he’s face to face with the bulge of Adam’s eager cock through his underwear. Tentatively, he presses his lips to the head, his breath warm even through the fabric, and Adam gives a low hum of approval, running his hands gently through Keith’s hair.

Keith tucks his fingers under the elastic and slowly unwraps the gift in front of him. Adam’s cock bounces free, springing up and bobbing against Keith’s face, who gives a small noise of surprise. He’s patient as Keith takes a moment to look at the sight of it, brows furrowed slightly but mouth hanging open, eager. He leans in and presses his wet, hot tongue lightly against the head, pulling it into his mouth and wrapping his lips around it. Adam closes his eyes and moans as Keith sinks down further, suckling noisily. It’s messy and inexperienced, but Adam enjoys it nonetheless. It’s endearing to see Keith trying so hard, even with a complete lack of finesse. So different to Shiro, who has exceptional technique but is begrudging to put it to use these days.

Hands in Keith’s hair, he guides the boy up and down on his cock, working Keith at a pace he likes until he gets the hang of it and keeps it up on his own. He can’t take it very deep but it’s a start. “That’s good, good, just keep those teeth out of the way,” Adam murmurs, looking down at the mess of hair below him and stroking it out of Keith’s face, holding it back for him. He watches happily as Keith’s mouth slides over and over his cock, shining wet with spit as he pulls back before taking it in again. “Good. Use your tongue,” he commands, and he feels it as it starts to swirl around the head of his cock and presses flat against the shaft. “Fuck,” he groans. “That’s it.”

He lets Keith continue for another half a minute before the need to step things up takes over and he needs to take charge again. Tugging at the hair at the back of Keith’s head, he pulls him back and keeps him still, tilting his chin up so he can look down at him. He’s panting and flushed red, spit running down his chin and lips pink and swollen. A mess. He meets Adam’s eyes hazily, like he’s been woken from a trance.

“God,” Adam whispers, cupping Keith’s face with his free hand before pushing two fingers inside of his mouth. Keith accepts them and sucks obediently, even when Adam pushes to the back of his throat and triggers his gag reflex. “God, you’re good. So eager, aren’t you?” Then with a smirk, he adds, “Takashi doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut at the mention of the name, but keeps sucking on Adam’s fingers as he pulls and pushes them past his lips. Adam hums and pries Keith’s jaw open, running a thumb over his bottom row of teeth.

He takes his cock, giving it a couple of firm strokes, and guides Keith back to it, holding the boy’s head at an angle so he can still look at his face. Keith closes his eyes as Adam rubs the head over his bottom lip, sticking his tongue out to swirl over the slit, licking up the dribble of pre-come.

“Look at me,” Adam orders, and Keith reluctantly looks up, eyes dark and heavy under his long lashes. Adam grabs his hair with both hands and pulls him forward, forcing him to take his cock deeper than before. Keith’s eyes go wide and he braces his hands on Adam’s thighs, trying to pull back, but Adam holds him securely in place with a strong grip. He keeps him there for a beat as he chokes, shock written all over his face, before he loosens his hold and allows Keith to pull away with a wet gasp.

Before he can fully regain his breath, Adam pulls him back for more and starts up a fast rhythm, nowhere near as hard or deep as Adam is used to, but it’s as much as Keith can handle right now. Maybe even a little bit more. Keith moans around his cock and digs his fingers into Adam’s skin, squeezing his eyes shut again and allowing Adam to move him, fucking his face steadily.

“I said look at me,” Adam repeats, and Keith forces his eyes open with notable effort. He’s choking around Adam’s cock, gagging when it bumps the back of his throat, and Adam has to interrupt the rhythm in order to give Keith the occasional break. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he instructs. “You’ve just gotta get the timing right.”

Keith nods, panting, as Adam draws him back in for more. He’s getting the hang of it, making obscene, wet sounds as Adam pulls him back and forth, choking as he pushes into him farther, exploring the depths of his throat. Keith sucks hard, drawing his lips over Adam’s cock tight and keeping his teeth safely tucked away, running his tongue over the shaft when Adam pulls back enough to allow him to do so. He looks up at Adam with his big, dark eyes, the lids flickering shut when Adam fucks into him deep but opening again when he relents. They water through the rough treatment.

“That’s it. God, you’re a natural,” Adam says. He could probably come from this, given enough time, but Keith won’t have the stamina and besides, Adam’s got a lot more he wants to do to him before the night’s over.

He pulls Keith off of him and rubs his cock over his swollen lips a few times, admiring the fucked-out look on his face, covered in spit. Keith mouths at his cock on instinct, tongue darting out to give little licks as he looks up at Adam with big eyes, waiting for direction. Adam strokes his cheek with a smile before lifting him up to sit in his lap. Keith trembles like jelly as he straddles him, panting for breath as Adam pushes his tongue into his mouth, which accepts the intrusion with no resistance. He slides a hand in between them and fits it around Keith’s cock, tugging on him steadily until Keith is hard and moaning, arching his back, fingertips digging into Adam’s skin and clawing at his hair.

He tugs Keith’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulls away, slowing down the pace of his hand before Keith gets too close to finishing. “On the bed,” he instructs. “Face down.”

Keith goes obediently, settling onto the mattress with a nervous tremble. At least he can take orders when it counts.

Adam runs an appreciative hand up Keith’s thighs and ass, squeezing firm fingertips into the flesh and patting him lightly. Keith has a great body, all lean muscle and smooth skin, and so delightfully small next to his. He runs his hand up Keith’s back to encourage him to relax as he unhooks the buttons of his shirt and pulls the rest of his clothes off, rests his glasses and comm on the nightstand.

He finds his bottle of lube and, spreading Keith’s ass with one hand, pours some right onto his entrance. Keith gasps and his whole body shudders as Adam spreads it around with two fingers, warming it up and teasing Keith’s hole. “Do you finger yourself?” he asks as Keith shudders again, gasping.

“N-- no,” Keith stammers.

“Never? Not at all?”

“Mm-- once, but--” Keith tries, but breaks off with a gasp as Adam slips one finger through the hole and pushes his way inside, going one, two knuckles deep before slipping almost all the way back out again, repeating the motion over and over. Keith can’t string words together after that.

He pushes another finger in alongside the first. Keith yelps at the initial stretch, then moans with a sob into the bed, fingers grappling with the sheets and legs stretching out, toes curling.

“Fuck you’re sensitive,” Adam murmurs. “And so tight. How are you going to take my cock like this?” He pushes his fingers in deeper, feeling Keith tighten and relax around him in turns as his body tries to accommodate for the violation. He’s whimpering and panting harder than ever, every tiny movement of Adam’s fingers seeming to flash through him like a jolt of electricity. He’s on the verge of tears already.

Adam reaches for Shiro’s pillow. “Here,” he says, pushing it into Keith’s hands. “This is his.” Keith wraps his arms around it and buries his face, clinging to it like a lifeline. Adam hums to himself, considering, then reaches over for his comm again. He pulls up the same picture of Shiro and lays the device down in front of Keith. “Just this once” he says, pressing a kiss to Keith’s temple. Keith sniffs and pulls himself up on the pillow to be able to look at the screen, practically drooling over the image as Adam continues his work to stretch his ass. Gradually, his muscles start to relax, his moans become more pleasure than pain. He’s a delight to listen to, loud and overwhelmed and lost in some fantasy about Adam’s own boyfriend with Adam's fingers in his ass.

Adam sticks with two fingers for a while, adding more lube every minute or two until he’s finger fucking Keith properly and the boy is putty beneath him, stretched out and melted into the mattress. A third finger forces its way in and Keith keens as Adam twists his hand around and crooks his fingers, catching Keith’s prostate for the first time. He pushes on this spot over and over, punishingly hard and fast, until Keith is thrashing beneath him and he has to restrain the boy by pinning him down, a knee on either side of his thighs and a firm hand on his lower back.

“Shh shh,” he coos, pulling his fingers out to a watery gasp from Keith. He slicks himself up, finally, getting his cock as hard as it will go before bracing himself on one hand and leading it down to Keith’s hole. He rubs it over the entrance teasingly, pushing with just enough control not to break past the skin, letting Keith anticipate the stretch. Keith moans and squeezes the pillow tight to his chest. His tiny ass makes Adam's cock look even bigger in comparison. 

“Good boy,” Adam murmurs. “Just relax and let me in, okay?”

Keith nods, and they both groan as Adam breaches him, pushing in inch by inch until he’s all the way inside. He’s beautifully warm and tight, and his walls flutter uncontrollably around Adam’s cock. “Fuck, you feel good,” Adam murmurs, though Keith probably can’t even hear him over the sounds of his own muffled, sobbing moans, face buried in Shiro’s pillow. Adam leans down and presses his chest flush to Keith's back, wrapping hands around his slim waist and chest to feel the rapid beating of his heart, the heavy rise and fall of his lungs. He leans his weight on him, rocking his hips just slightly, reminding Keith of how big he is, how he can treat him however he wants right now and Keith’s powerless to stop it. He loves the way Keith feels underneath him, so small and helpless, pinned down and filled up with cock, shivering head to toe. With a grin, he kisses the back of Keith’s neck and sits up on his knees, yanking Keith’s hips up with him, and takes his wrists, pins them to the mattress. Keith’s breath stutters at the rough treatment.

Adam gives him a few moments to adjust, feeling the boy’s muscles try to relax and make room for him. Keith whimpers, each breath loud and shaky, and waits for him to start.

When he does, it’s without warning or ceremony. Keith cries out as Adam moves inside of him. The thrusts are short and quick; Adam snaps his hips against Keith’s ass over and over, fucking him like a dog and making him whine like one. He’s hot and tight and velvety soft, clenching around Adam’s cock, too inexperienced yet to fight his instincts and let go, let himself be fucked and used without resistance. Adam only fucks him harder, fucks him until the bed creaks beneath them and tears spill out of the corners of Keith’s eyes. He leans in to kiss them away, savoring the trace of salt on his tongue.

He readjusts, pushing Keith’s knees together and dropping him flat to the mattress, fucking him at a deeper angle and earning himself a drawn out moan from the boy. Keith feels, looks, sounds incredible, and Adam’s dizzy from the alcohol, the beautiful squeeze around him and the hypnotizing noises the kid makes. This is the best sex he’s had in months. He’s not going to last a whole lot longer.

“Enjoying that, Keith?” he asks, his voice rasping low in Keith’s ear. “That’s just how Takashi likes it too. Hard, fast, dirty. You’d make him proud.”

Keith arches his back and cries out, stuttered nonsense spilling from his lips. Adam shifts Keith’s wrists up the bed and grabs them both in one hand, then reaches a hand down beneath him and grabs his cock, squeezing it tight before working it with a rhythmic flick of his wrist. Keith gasps loud and tilts his hips up, giving Adam more room to work and inadvertently angling himself for Adam to fuck him even deeper. It’s all just about all over for him, but he shuts his eyes and holds back as long as he can, jerking and fucking Keith at the same brutal pace.

Keith lifts his head and looks for Shiro’s picture, still displayed on the screen in front of him. “Shiro,” he gasps, his voice wet with tears. It’s a frantic plea. “Shiro, Shiro, _Shiro, ah-- ahhh!”_

Adam feels Keith clench impossibly tight around him, feels his hips stutter and cock twitch in his hand as he spills into it, sticky and warm. He fucks him through it, pounds Keith’s overstimulated hole another few moments until the boy is gasping for him to stop, but then Adam is coming too and he can’t stop for anything. He moans and his hips jerk erratically as he fills Keith with come.

He collapses on top of the boy, resting his head on the pillow beside Keith and groaning quietly as he catches his breath. Keith’s skin is beaded with sweat and his hole twitches around Adam’s sensitive cock, making them both moan weakly. He lays there a moment, listening to Keith’s breathing start to even out and his heartbeat slow back down. He makes no attempt to escape from underneath Adam, too fucked out and exhausted to move. Adam feels much the same way.

He slowly comes back to earth and sits up, his head spinning as he moves. Keith has melted into place, arms still splayed out above him, the rise and fall of his chest the only movement he makes. He moans softly as Adam pulls out of him, sits back on his thighs and stretches his cheeks to watch the come run down his ass. Adam swipes it up and pushes it back in lazily, two fingers back inside him, only for it to trickle slowly out again. Keith whimpers as he’s played with.

Adam sighs happily and flips Keith over, lays down on top of him without caring about the sticky mess covering Keith’s stomach. He makes to kiss him, and smirks when Keith turns away from him, eyes and mouth squeezed shut. He holds Keith’s head in place with a hand cupping his jaw and insists with his tongue until Keith relents, opens his mouth to reluctantly accept it. When he pulls back and looks Keith in the eyes, the boy bursts into tears. He’s yanked from the fantasy and reality is setting in. Regret pours out of him.

Adam kisses down his jaw and neck. “Shh, it’s okay, you did well,” he murmurs, but Keith keeps sniveling miserably, brings his hands up to weakly push Adam away.

“You hate me even more now, I suppose?” Adam asks him. Keith nods angrily, tears spilling out from behind his squeezed-shut eyes.

“You seemed to enjoy it, though,” he teases. “You can call his name if you like, but it was me who made you come.”

Keith sobs and covers his face with his hands as more tears flow from his eyes. He shakes his head.  

Adam sighs and looks around the room. The fun’s over and it’s time for Keith to leave, but he needs him to calm down first. He can’t send him out to the halls like this, crying and limping and covered in come. Although, it is a fun thought.

He props himself up on an elbow and wipes Keith’s tears away with the bedsheet, swatting his hands aside. “Hey, you’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?” he says. “Because if Takashi finds out that you slept with me, he’ll be heartbroken. Betrayed. Might not ever speak to you again.” He waits, watches his words sink in as Keith's expression turns fearful, guilty. “You love him, right? And you want to keep seeing him?”

Keith nods his head.

“Then you’d better make sure this stays our little secret,” Adam whispers, pressing a kiss to Keith’s neck and making him shudder. “Okay?”

Keith pauses a beat, sucks up his tears and sighs weakly. “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Adam grins. He gets up and finds a towel to wipe Keith down with, stopping to admire the beautiful sight on his bed - Keith in all his pale skin and long limbs and tiny frame, teary and exhausted with the life fucked out of him. Shiro’s little pet, his virginity stolen by Adam right here in Shiro’s bed. He could win the next hundred arguments with Shiro and it still wouldn’t top this. Whatever they were fighting about seems long forgotten to him now. He smiles with cold irony. Keith may have just inadvertently saved his relationship.

He gathers the kid’s clothes up and helps him back into them, clasps the hooks of his jacket together when Keith’s fingers tremble too much. He’s wobbly on his feet and walks with a telltale stiffness, his face is pale and slack from exhaustion, but he’ll make it back to his bunk room okay.

Adam leads him to the door with a hand on his back. “Thanks for visiting, Keith,” he murmurs with a sly curl of his lips. He pulls Keith towards him, leaning down to kiss his neck, just to make him shudder.

He opens the door and pushes Keith outside with a squeeze of his ass. “Next time, I’ll come find you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Oh wow thank you all for the comments. Sorry I'm really awkward at accepting praise and never know what to say but I read and appreciate them all!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _Idiot,_ he thinks. _You goddamn fucking idiot. What were you thinking? Why did you do it?_ He doesn’t have an answer. Not one that’s good enough, anyway. There’s nothing he could say that would come even close to justifying this. He’s never fucked up so badly before.
> 
> Keith regrets, and panics, and makes a mess of everything, but Adam isn't done with him yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be distressing as it deals with extreme feelings of guilt, regret, and despair, as well as unwanted touch/sexual harassment. Keith's POV. Please read with caution.

He doesn’t remember stumbling back to his bunk room, or falling into bed with everything still on except his boots, but when his eyes flicker open hours later he figures that he must have.

The room has the hush of deep sleep over it that suggests it’s very early morning, still hours before the 0615 wake-up call. Keith stares up into the darkness and listens to the breathing of the other boys in the room. He’s still exhausted, physically and emotionally, but despite the hour, his brain is wide awake and whirring like crazy, suddenly switched on like the flick of a light. The events of the night play over and over in his mind, and he observes and processes it all with a strange sort of numbness. It’s almost like he remembers it happening to someone else. It doesn’t seem real, like maybe it was all just a dream. But there’s bruising around his wrists and an ache in his lower body that serve to remind him just how real it was.

 _Idiot,_ he thinks. _You goddamn fucking idiot. What were you thinking? Why did you do it?_ He doesn’t have an answer. Not one that’s good enough, anyway. There’s nothing he could say that would come even close to justifying this. He’s never fucked up so badly before.

He wishes he could say that he didn’t want it. He wishes he had said no and Adam had forced him anyway. That's beyond messed up and he knows it, but he’s desperate for some excuse, anything to not have to admit to the truth.

Shiro. His best friend, his _only_ friend, the one person left in the entire world who still believes in him and cares about him, and what does he go and do?

He ruins it. Of course he does.

Keith rolls over onto his side and curls his knees up to his chest. It hurts to move. His ass still feels stretched and sore, and there’s sticky wetness between his legs. It’s such a horrible, degrading feeling that he can’t hold back a fresh wave of tears. He buries his face in his pillow and lets them out, breathing as slow and deep as he can to try to keep his body from shaking, keep silent, the way he taught himself while living at the Home.

He hopes that his parents, wherever they are, can’t see him like this. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into the pillow along with his tears, just in case they’re listening. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He cries until he has nothing left and then he just lays there, watching the room slowly grow light. The morning call comes and the other boys in the room rise sleepily, change into their uniforms and make their beds. Keith stays where he is.

“Hey, get up,” one of the cadets tells him. When Keith doesn’t answer, the boy kicks his bed. “Get up, dumbass, or you’ll get us all in trouble.”

Keith slowly rises with a wince, ignoring the stares he gets. Body on autopilot, he tucks the corners of his blankets under the mattress, tugs on his boots and stands at the end of his bunk, hands behind his back in parade rest. The duty officer comes in moments later for morning inspection.

Keith gets chewed out for the state of his uniform. He’s made to iron it before breakfast.

\---

He can’t eat anyway; he feels too sick, and his throat is raw and hurts to swallow. The only thing he wants to do is shower, but he has to get through a whole day of classes before he can do that. He avoids and ignores his classmates even more than usual, paranoid that they would smell the sex and guilt on him if they got too close, see it if they look him in the eyes. He feels disgusting. There’s dried come and spots of blood in his underwear, and in the bathroom mirror he finds red, tender patches of skin along his neck, blood sucked to the surface. Moving his collar to get a better look, he realizes that they’ve been deliberately placed so they’re just out of sight, hidden beneath his uniform. It sends a chill through him.

The day drags on. His stomach churns in constant anxiety, and he’s not able to concentrate on a thing his teachers say. He’s at least able to fake his way out of PT in the afternoon - his pale and exhausted appearance is enough to corroborate his lie about coming down sick. There’s just no way his body could handle drills right now; it takes everything he has not to limp while walking down the corridor to the medical wing, where a bored nurse allows him to lay on a stiff and uncomfortable mattress until classes break for the day.

By the time he finally hits the showers at 1730, Keith feels like there’s barely any point anymore. The filth and awful reality of what he’s done have settled under his skin, sunk deep into his pores, far too deep for a two minute shower to wash away. He scrubs himself raw in the attempt anyway.

Dinner goes no better than breakfast or lunch. He can see Adam and Shiro way across the other side of the mess hall, in the officer’s section. They’re sitting next to each other now, smiling and laughing as they talk. Must have made up sometime in the last block. Keith pushes his mac n cheese around on the plate until the first people start to leave, then he busses his tray and heads out the door. From the corner of his eye he sees Shiro wave at him. It kills him to pretend not to notice.

In the study hall, he logs onto one of the work stations. There’s a new message from Shiro.

_I’m so sorry about last night! I was distracted and completely forgot we had planned to meet. Adam and I had a bit of a disagreement - he says he told you. Sorry about that. Everything’s fine now, though. Why don’t you come over tomorrow night instead? I'll make it up to you._

He stares at the message for a long, long time, but in the end he can’t bring himself to reply.

\--

Sleep doesn’t come easy. In fact, after the few hours that first night - when he suspects his body shut down out of shock and exhaustion - it barely comes at all. He lays in bed for hours at a time, staring up at the dark ceiling, going over everything that happened that night, every wrong turn he made, every chance he had to make a better decision and didn’t. How he let Adam pin him down, force his way into him, touch him in ways and places he had never even touched himself before, and Keith just lay there and let it all happen, didn’t once try to stop it. Just pretended it was Shiro, as if that made it okay somehow.

 _You didn’t just let him do it,_ he reminds himself bitterly, twisting the knife in his own wound. _You liked it. You got off from it._ The echo of that still lingers in him, reverberates through his body when he closes his eyes. Enhanced by the alcohol, maybe, or the photo of Shiro or scent of his pillow that had him transfixed. But it doesn’t matter, really, because it was Adam who made him come.

_Look at me._

His voice echoes in Keith’s head, and behind his closed eyes he can't escape the memory of brown ones looking down at him, framed by glasses and a perverse smirk that has him helpless and frighteningly obedient. He shivers beneath his blankets.

_That’s it. God, you’re good._

Keith grimaces against the tingling arousal that builds in him. Breath caught in his throat, he runs nervous hands over his body, trying to map it out, make sense of it again. See how he’s been changed.

_Good boy. It’s okay. Just relax for me._

Keith’s body tenses beneath his own touch. His hand trails down to wrap cautiously around his half-hard cock, but his mind flicks uncontrollably to the thought of Adam's hand around it, and he blanches, yanks his hand away as if stung.

He rolls over onto his stomach, hides his traitorous hands under his pillow to stop them from wandering. He used to get off while thinking about Shiro, but he doesn’t even know if he can do that anymore. Adam’s broken him. _No,_ he corrects himself. _This was your choice. You did this to yourself._

He always knew Shiro didn’t return his feelings, but he thought that would be okay. He thought it would be enough just to be his friend, even if he did fantasize every night about more. He was stupid enough to think that maybe he could just be happy with what he had, but now he’s gone and ruined that, too. There’s just something in his nature that self-destructs, and he fucking hates himself for it, he hates it hates it _hates it._ And this time, Shiro got caught in the cross-fire. The one person worth protecting in this miserable world, and Keith betrays him. He’ll never be able to forgive himself for that.

He knows he should tell him, even if it means never seeing Shiro again. Even if Shiro hates him for it. He knows it's the right thing to do, but the thought alone is unbearable. It's unforgivably selfish of him, but Keith doesn't think he can do it.

There’s just one tiny, little thing he can do to try to make up for what he’s done in some small way.

He has to make sure that what he did with Adam will never happen again.

\--

Despite his best efforts, his body still betrays him at night. In the brief moments of sleep he gets, he dreams about what happened. It's frighteningly vivid: the hands in his hair, the tongue filling up his mouth, Adam inside of him, powerful and painful and perversely thrilling at the same time. It feels so real. Sometimes Shiro is watching them, and Keith knows he should stop, but he doesn’t, can’t, no words coming out when he opens his mouth, just a pathetic moan, and Adam keeps fucking him as Shiro watches them in silent shock from the doorway. After the first time, when he woke up and found himself wet and messy from ejaculation, his heart still thumping hard in his chest, Keith threw his head over the side of the bed and dry heaved loud enough to wake half the room, a grumbled “shut the fuck up” thrown at him from one of his bunk mates. He counted his blessings there wasn’t enough in his stomach to bring up.

It's even harder to sleep after that - he's afraid to. He’ll lie awake for hours trying to think of anything but Adam, the way he touched him, the way his breath felt ticklish and hot against Keith’s skin, the way his voice sounded in his ear, warm and pleased as he hummed instructions and gave praise to the surrender of Keith’s body. The harder he tries to shut it out the deeper it bores into him. The memory of it all won’t leave him alone.

The first time he jerks off to it, it’s almost an accident, involuntary. When he’s brave enough to touch himself under the covers, desperate one night for the help to send him off to sleep, he tries falling back on old fantasies. He conjures the image of Shiro touching him, big hands down between his legs or pinning him against a wall, but it’s not enough anymore; he’s close but just can’t get past that last hurdle no matter how hard he tries. Then reality flickers on the edge of his fantasy, tempting him with the knowledge of what it really feels like to be kissed and touched and fucked, and the desire to come overpowers his guilt; the memory of Adam floods him. Suddenly, the orgasm he’s been chasing is right in front of him and he doesn’t have the strength to stop himself from reaching out for it.

The relief doesn’t last long: almost the moment he comes, guilt and immense regret billow inside him, taking up space as the climax rushes out of his body. His self-loathing reaches a whole other level.

It still doesn’t stop it from happening again.

\--

Shiro has been busy lately, even busier than usual, and all Keith's seen of him has been brief glimpses in the mess hall. He misses him. Shiro doesn't seem to have noticed they haven't seen each other for days, and Keith can't help but feel hurt, even though it’s his own fault for not responding to his messages. The constant conflict of instincts - to run to Shiro’s arms and cry; to flee from his mistakes and never face him again - tears at him day and night, worst of all when watching him sit and eat, Adam’s arm wrapped around his waist, laughing at some joke they share.

Looking at Adam makes Keith feel dizzy and awful, sets his pulse racing, a squeeze coiling in his stomach. They've passed each other in the halls of the cadet classroom blocks. It was inevitable, and yet Keith still froze like a deer in headlights the first time he saw the man coming towards him. Adam hadn’t so much as glanced his way, nor did he in any of the times since. Keith isn’t sure if it’s better or worse that way. Not knowing what he's thinking, what he's planning to do, if anything at all, has him sick with anxiety. The first time they crossed paths, Keith had frozen in place until Adam turned the corner behind him and then all but ran to the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water. He shook as he stood over the basin, until his heart rate slowed down and the bile settled back in his stomach.

On Friday afternoon, one week since that night, a week of anxiety and guilt and aching regret, comes his class with Adam.

He considers not going, hiding in a bathroom cubicle in the minutes before class, but in the end visions of getting called to Adam’s office for skipping, or even worse, Shiro finding out and somehow pulling the truth out of him, convince him he’ll be better off to go. Anxiety coils in his stomach like a cornered snake ready to strike, twisting his guts around in knots and freezing him in place, all of his instincts resisting his attempts to leave the cubicle, but the thought of Adam’s and all the other student’s scrutinizing eyes on him as he walks in late is a sickening enough motivation. Taking a deep, steadying breath in the mirror, he straightens his collar up over the faded purple marks on his neck, swallows the lump in his throat and drags his leaden legs down the corridor.

The second he opens the classroom door he feels Adam’s eyes on him, and his skin crawls. The image of a cruel, telling smile flashes through his mind and his gaze darts to the man’s face, but Adam is watching him impassively, nothing more than a scientific observation, his hand covering his mouth thoughtfully. Keith’s stomach still lurches when their eyes meet, and he thinks he sees the flicker of a smile flash over Adam’s eyes before he turns away with a shudder and finds his seat.

Advanced calculus is challenging at the best of times, but today Keith feels Adam’s eyes on him as he walks up and down between rows of desks like a prowling animal, and it makes his head so fuzzy and swollen with dread he can barely see what’s on the work screen in front of him. The slow step of Adam’s shoes on the linoleum floor as the students quietly work at problems echoes through Keith’s brain, thuds in his chest alongside the sickly beat of his heart, and he struggles to concentrate as he constantly, subconsciously calculates where Adam is, what direction he’s heading next, anxiously anticipating the next time he’ll pass by Keith’s desk.

Keith’s in the middle of a particularly difficult problem when Adam stops to watch what he’s doing. He leans down over Keith, a heavy hand on his shoulder, reminiscent of their first touch one week ago, and Keith swallows a tremble as he tries to keep working under Adam’s unnerving eye. He’s close enough that Keith can smell the faint hint of his cologne, a scent that brings back memories that make Keith squirm. Adam feels it and squeezes his fingers around Keith's shoulder, his thumb subtly rubbing the muscle in his neck in the imitation of a comforting touch. Keith’s pulse fires rapidly and his hand stills over his work screen before he pulls himself together and writes the next set of digits. Adam hums under his breath, quiet, just for Keith, and moves on to check the next student’s work.

After what feels like an eternity the bell rings for lunch, but Keith doesn’t release his long-held breath yet. He follows a line of students towards the door, his heart thumping and stomach doing somersaults, and for a breathless moment it looks like Adam is going to let him go, just like that, but as he passes the teacher’s desk at the front of the class he hears his name being called.

“Keith.”

It’s low in tone, almost a whisper, and it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His first name, rather than the standard surname or ‘cadet’. Keith shivers at the implied intimacy, looking around nervously at his classmates. None of them seem to notice or care. He stands aside, lets them file past, then turns to Adam’s waiting gaze.

He looks at Keith a long moment, terrifyingly calm with just the hint of a smile on his face. Keith squirms from the gaze alone, unable to bear Adam’s full attention after being almost completely ignored for days. He drops his eyes to the floor and waits, fighting his instincts to simply flee.

Adam eyes him a moment longer, then exhales a little laugh, smiles slightly. “Shut the door,” he says.

Keith’s stomach drops, but he obediently turns and closes the classroom door behind him. When he turns back, Adam is beckoning him closer with a lazy wave of two of his fingers.

Keith stands in front of him meekly, eyes still downcast on the floor as Adam scrutinizes him, looking up at him curiously from his desk chair. He rubs fingers thoughtfully over his jaw and lips, turning his head to the side as if trying to examine Keith from all angles. From the corner of his eye, Keith sees him smile in a way that makes a shiver run down his spine.

“What’s the matter, Keith?” Adam asks with mock innocence. “You don’t seem yourself today.”

Keith’s mouth is too dry to answer him. He doesn’t even know what to say. Is Adam really going to expect him to play along, pretend that nothing happened?

Adam sighs and leans back on his chair. “You’re too obvious,” he says, displeased. “You’re going to give yourself away.”

Keith swallows nervously. “Sorry, Sir,” he mumbles.

“You haven’t told anybody about our little secret, have you?” Adam asks.

Keith quickly shakes his head. “No.”

“Good,” Adam says. “Make sure it stays that way.”

He leans forward and find the edges of Keith’s uniform, tugging at it lightly to straighten out the creases, tucking his fingers under his waist belt to recenter the buckle above his navel. He lets his hands linger around Keith’s waist and over his hips, and Keith’s eyes fall shut as they trail down his ass, settle at the back of his thighs.

Adam squeezes and pulls Keith so he staggers towards him with a gasp, almost tumbling into his lap. Keith throws his arms out and grabs onto Adams forearms for balance, thick and muscular beneath his fingertips.

“I've been thinking of you,” Adam murmurs, looking up at him with heavy, lidded eyes, digging fingertips into Keith's thighs through his pants. He pulls one of Keith's arms to his mouth, carefully noses the sleeve up and presses light kisses to the sensitive skin of Keith's wrist, lips crooked in a smirk. “It’s a shame we have to sneak around like this, but maybe that's what makes it so fun.”

Keith shivers and yanks his hands back to his chest, straightening. “I don't want to see you again,” he says shakily.

“Oh?” Adam’s hands trail to the front of Keith's uniform, over the vee of his hips and down to where his legs meet his body. Keith whimpers at the touch, light but confident, squeezing his eyes shut to a wave of nausea as he feels himself start to grow hard.

Adam smiles and removes his hands, satisfied. “We'll see about that,” he says softly, leaning back on his chair. “You're excused, cadet. I'll find you when I get the chance.”

Keith doesn't need to be told twice. Without another word, he's out the door and stumbling down the corridor, tripping over his own feet in a mixture of haste and shaky, clumsy adrenaline. His pulse races beneath his skin, the walls around him are blurred and spinning, and he distantly wonders if he's going to faint.

 _Outside,_ he thinks, and turns a corner, finding a staircase that will take him to the roof, to blue skies and fresh air and a view of the Arizona desert, endless and wild and free, where he can pretend for a moment that he's not here and this isn't happening to him.

\--

He has to tell Shiro.

That's the resolution he comes away with, after five minutes of breathing exercises, 10 minutes of rabid panic over the prospect of Shiro never speaking to him again, and then another 10 minutes of numb, exhausted resignation. Adam's toying with him like a cat toys with a mouse, letting him go only because it's more fun to chase him down again later. The only way out of this, the only way to get him to leave Keith alone, is to tell Shiro about it. He fucked up bad, it's only right that he face the consequences. Besides, letting this carry on would only hurt Shiro more.

He tucks his knees up to his chest and stares out at the dusty horizon, orange bleeding into blue, and thinks about how he's going to do it. It needs to be soon: there's no telling when Adam will come for him next, corner him in some abandoned room tucked away somewhere secret, or call him into his office, trapping him in with the lock of a door. He has to put a stop to it before that can happen.

Tonight, then. He'll go visit Shiro once his free hour starts, after dinner, and tell him tonight. His heart hammers at the mere thought of it, but he has to do it. He has to. He will.

There's a loud clang of metal as the door to the roof opens, and Keith nearly jumps out of his skin. _Adam,_ his panicked brain supplies, but when the figure steps around the corner, Keith doesn't know whether it's better or worse.

It's Shiro.

His heart still can't help but soar at the sight of him, like it has every time for the last two years, but that feeling quickly falls to despair as he realizes that this means his confession has just been rescheduled to this very moment. He won't even have time to mourn Shiro from a distance before disgust and resentment drive a wedge between them. Perhaps that's for the best.

“Keith,” Shiro says, a relieved smile spreading over his face. “I've been looking for you. You weren't at lunch.”

Keith swallows as Shiro sits next to him, his broad shoulders bumping against Keith's. “I brought you something,” he says, holding out a bag from the sandwich place on base.

Keith could cry at the kindness of the gesture, kindness he doesn't deserve. He shakes his head. “I already ate.”

Shiro frowns, but doesn't push Keith on his obvious lie. “Everything okay? We haven't talked in days. Did you get my messages?”

Keith shrugs weakly. “I've been busy. Homework, you know…”

Silence settles between them, and Keith sneaks a glance up at Shiro, catches the sad and thoughtful look on his face. He knows something's wrong, and it breaks Keith's heart to lie to him.

 _Just tell him,_ he says to himself. _Coward, what are you waiting for? Just tell him and get it over with._

As if reading his mind, Shiro says, “You know you can tell me anything, Keith. Right?”

Keith nods nervously. “I know.”

His mouth hangs open slightly, ready to spill all his secrets, but no words come out. He wonders if Shiro can hear the hard, drumming beat of his heart instead.

“I actually have something to tell you, unless, maybe Adam already did,” Shiro says after a while, breaking their silence when Keith doesn’t, and Keith tries not to panic with what Shiro could mean.

“I got chosen for the Kerberos mission,” he says after a breathless beat. “I'm heading back into space.”

Keith stares at him, shocked. It's the last thing he was expecting. Shiro can't quite keep the proud half-grin off his face, even as he looks at Keith with concern.

“But I'll be back,” he says. “It's a long mission, longer than any other I've done, and I just can’t pass up the opportunity. But I will be back. I promise.”

“When?” Keith whispers, feeling so frail that anything louder could break his body apart. He clears his throat. “When do you leave?”

“Two months from now. They haven't officially announced it yet, so keep it quiet, but that's why I've been so busy. And -- and that's why Adam and I were fighting again. I'm sorry you got dragged into that.”

Keith swallows hard, looking down at his hands, fighting to keep them from clenching into fists. “He doesn't want you to go?”

Shiro hums an admission. “Yeah. It's been… frustrating. He's been a lot better this last week, though. I think he's finally come to his senses.”

 _He hasn't,_ Keith thinks, but the courage needed to tell Shiro as much has left him completely. Two months, two months with Shiro and then he won't see him again for years. At least three, but from what he remembers learning about the ambitious Kerberos mission, they were allowing supplies and fuel for five. He can't bring himself to ruin these precious two months he has left.

Shiro places a big, warm hand on Keith's shoulder. “Hey, it's gonna be alright, okay? You'll be fine without me. You're amazing, Keith. You're talented and determined and smart, you'll get through the next few years no problem. You've got this.”

Keith nods unconvincingly and Shiro sighs, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “One day you'll see what I see in you. You're going to achieve amazing things, I know it.” He squeezes Keith painfully tight for a quick moment, pulling him against his chest. “And when you do, you'd better give me some damn credit, okay?”

Keith laughs softly, leaning into Shiro's body to hide his teary face, and savours what few minutes he's allowed, warm and safe in Shiro's arms, before the afternoon bell rings.

\--

A few days later, the lineup of the crew is made public.

From his spot in the mess hall, Keith watches as Shiro's friends, colleagues, even people he's never seen before make their way over to him to shake his hand, pat him on the back in congratulations. Keith's heart hurts every time Shiro smiles that beautiful smile of his, modest but proud and painfully genuine. Keith's going to miss it and everything else about Shiro so, so much. He already feels the ache in his core, the missing part of him that belongs to Shiro and will follow him anywhere, even to the edge of the solar system.

He's aware of the eyes of fellow cadets on him too, some just curious, maybe even concerned, pitying, but some bitter and cruel, nasty smirks and sneers flashing over their faces. He ignores them all. It's no secret that he and Shiro are close; it's also no secret that a lot of his peers resent him for that, and for his place at the top of his year. The Garrison is insanely competitive, and Keith knows what a lot of them are thinking. Truth be told, he's thinking the same thing: once Shiro leaves, it might be only a matter of time before Keith's out of here, too.

When he returns to his bunk room later that evening, there’s a pack of them waiting.

One of the them whistles a long, descending tone, eliciting cruel laughter from the others, and two of them get up and shut the door behind him to block his exit.

“Not looking so tough these days, are you, freak?”

Keith glares at the boy in front of him, fists clenched. This one is from his bunk room, and seems to be in charge of this makeshift little gang. Keith says nothing in response, but when he tries to walk past the group to his bed, he’s grabbed by both arms and dragged back in front of the leader.

“Hey -- get off me! Leave me alone!”

“You’d better get used to this,” the boy sneers. “Once Shirogane’s gone, you’re not going to have anyone to run and hide behind anymore. You’re finally gonna get everything that’s coming to you. That is, if you’re not kicked out of here first.”

One of the boys holding his arms sniggers, and Keith struggles against his grip. It’s not great, he could probably break free, but the other boy on his left has him a bit sturdier, and even if he got away from these two there’s still nearly half a dozen more waiting for him. He’s fucked.

“You’re not cut out for this place, and everyone knows it,” the one in front of him continues. “I can’t wait to see you knocked down a few pegs. Maybe you’ll have to start working hard like the rest of us. I wonder if you’ll handle it. Or are you only good at bending over Shirogane’s desk for his _special treatment?”_

Keith snarls and the other boys laugh. “Shut up. Leave him out of this.”

“Touched a nerve,” the one on his left says. “What’s wrong, freak? Did he break your poor little heart?”

“He’s probably sick of you following him around everywhere,” a voice behind him says. “It sure as hell’s embarrassing enough to look at.”

“Yeah, he has to run all the way to Kerberos just to get away from this loser,” another one laughs. “Poor guy.”

“Man, who cares about that idiot?” the leader of the group says, crossing his arms. “Everyone thinks he’s so great, but he’s just another loser like this freak, acting like he’s hot shit ‘cause he won some medal. They deserve each other.”  He smiles cruelly at Keith. “Hey, wouldn’t it be great if he crashed and died out in space? Then everyone would know he’s just a phony like you, he probably only got the position by sucking the right cock --”

Keith’s vision flashes and with an angry snarl, he jabs the heel of his boot hard into the shin of the boy to his right; he cries out and lets Keith go, and Keith immediately swings his fist around and clips the jaw of the leader in an uppercut.

The one one his left yells out in surprise and grabs onto Keith harder, but with one arm and two legs fighting blindly and ferociously, Keith manages to scramble free and jumps onto the body of the asshole groaning on the floor, hitting him again across the face with a closed fist and a satisfying crack. He brings his hand up for another swing, but he’s dragged away, still kicking out and swearing loudly, by the combined efforts of three other boys.

One of them hits him hard in the stomach, shutting him up and knocking the wind from him, and he’s probably seconds from having the ever-living shit beat out of him when the bunk room door swings open with a slam.

“What the hell is going on in here?!” the duty officer demands.

The gang, at least the ones who can still stand, release Keith and jump to attention immediately. “He just started attacking us out of nowhere, Sir,” one of them says, pointing to Keith, wheezing on his hands and knees as he fights for breath. He’s been winded before, it had happened a couple of times when he’d had a rough landing and fallen off his hoverbike, but the feeling hadn’t got any easier to endure. Especially right now, listening to the entire situation being blamed on him and not being able to say anything in his defense.

The duty officer pulls Keith up and sits him on the bed to recover, then sees to the other two injured. One will walk away with a bruised shin, but the leader gets sent to the medbay to inspect his jaw and bloody nose. He moans about feeling concussed. Keith tries to glare at him through watering eyes. He’s pretty sure he didn’t hit him that hard, but he sure as shit is going to be in trouble for it anyway.

\--

One hour, two meetings with his sergeant, and a formal write up for misconduct later, he's shown to his new bunk room.

It’s not so bad an outcome, he thinks. He hadn’t bothered to refute what the others had said, resigned to letting happen whatever was going to happen - he had thrown the first punch, after all, and he didn’t particularly want to admit to being provoked, because then he’d have to explain how, and it would all be for nothing anyway because no one in this awful place even gives a damn about him except for Shiro. And Shiro, thankfully, didn’t have to get involved, though Keith suspects it’s only because they were worried about distracting him from his upcoming mission. As long as he doesn’t get in trouble for Keith’s mistake, Keith doesn’t particularly care what his punishment is.

The room he’s been given until his ‘cohabitation issues’ can be resolved is tiny, just two small, unmade beds on either side of the door, rather than the much larger ten-bunk rooms he’s used to. He’s happy with it, though; between the Home and the Garrison, he’s had enough communal living to last him a lifetime. He makes his bed up with the sheets and itchy woolen blanket given to him, strips down to his undershirt and briefs, and lays down heavily on the stiff mattress. He’s exhausted and sore, knuckles grazed and abdomen bruised, but at least the physical pain distracts him somewhat from the emotional. He closes his eyes and hopes for sleep.

There’s no rest for him, though. It seems like there never is. Before he even gets the chance, a soft _beep-beep_ from the door panel grabs his attention. His eyes snap open, he sees a red light turn green and hears the quiet hiss of the automatic door starting to slide open.

Despair drops in his stomach like an anchor, raking his insides and pulling his throat tight. He doesn’t even need to see the figure in the door frame before dread and panic has him frozen in place. There’s no mistaking who it is; only one person would visit him in the dead of the night, alone and isolated, overriding the security lock on his door without even knocking. _You fucked up,_ he tells himself, the words flying through his mind uselessly over and over again. _You fucked up you fucked up you fucked so bad._

Illuminated by the dim effervescent light from the hallway outside, stepping into his bunk room with his hands behind his back and a dark smile on his face, is Adam.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who wanted me to write Shiro finding out. Well. I'm sorry. Maybe he will one day, but Keith has to suffer a lot more before then. It just be like that sometimes.
> 
>  
> 
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/theodoramyhoney/status/1094721617891024896) :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > He can’t help the way his body is responding to every touch, can’t help the way the low voice and hot breath at his ear turn him on as much as they frighten him. Adam reignites his memory with a blaze, trailing warm, trespassing hands over his body in the same way he did that first night, possessive and sadistic and tender all at once. The way Keith had tried to recreate on his own in the nights since, hating himself for it afterwards.
> 
> Adam sinks his teeth in deeper. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who says I can't not update for six months and then post two chapters in two days, hmm?? Well, these last two were originally going to be one chapter but things got a bit long, so they were broken up, and I got myself fucked up with this one so I just wanted to get it published instead of waiting a standard week or whatever. Next update will be a while away again, but I'm trying to be faster!
> 
> So a note about consent in this fic and what I should tag it as: You may have noticed I've upgraded the tags to rape/noncon. This is to err on the side of caution. While reading this chapter, some people may see it as 100% noncon, others might see it as (extreme) dubcon. This chapter is a bit, uh, worse than chapter one in that regard, which was already dubcon. That being said, if you were fine with chapter one you should be alright with chapter three. If you were struggling with chapter one and didn't want to see more dubcon, maybe avoid this chapter or go into it with a lot of caution. ~~This chapter is the worst this fic will get in terms of consent (or lack thereof), although that doesn't mean that everything's going to be peachy after this.~~

“Hello, Keith,” Adam says, and the door closes behind him, shutting out most of the light and leaving Keith with the distinct feeling that he’s trapped in a cage with a carnivorous animal.

Keith can’t answer, his breath caught in his throat, looking up at Adam wide-eyed and pathetic as the man steps slowly towards him, stands over him where he sits on the bed and reaches a hand out, strokes his thumb over Keith’s open lips. Keith wills himself to speak, to move, to do _anything,_ but he can just make out the glint of Adam’s cold eyes in the low light, and it has him frozen in place.

“Enjoying your new bunk? It’s going to be nice to have some privacy,” Adam says, sounding like he can’t keep a smirk off his face, and Keith suddenly snaps to with realization.

“You did this?” he whispers, fearful and accusatory. He feels like he might throw up.

“No, Keith,” Adam says with mock pity, stroking his cheek with a large, warm hand. _“You_ did this.” He takes his glasses off, puts them in a case in his pocket as he looks down at Keith, a flash of white teeth shining in the dark. “I might have helped things along with a… professional recommendation when your sergeant came looking for Takashi, but it was your own actions that got you here. You just couldn’t keep that temper under control, could you?”

He reaches both hands to the back of Keith’s head, running his fingers through locks of Keith’s hair and tilting his stunned face upwards. Kneeling down on the bed he murmurs, “But it’s not all bad, right? It’ll make things easier for us,” and he pulls Keith’s mouth towards him.

Weak with shock, Keith’s dragged along easily. It takes his brain a moment to catch up with what’s happening to his body, but when he realizes that the strange intrusion filling up his mouth is Adam’s wet tongue, he makes a noise of distress and tries to push him away. Adam just pushes him down on the bed with ease, pins his arms down and kisses him more. It’s terrifying how easily he does it, like Keith doesn’t weigh a thing, but it’s not just their difference in size that has him so helpless; Adam does something to his head, paralyzes him with just his voice, just one flash of those dark eyes. Keith shuts down in his presence.

He shakes like a leaf as Adam licks into his mouth, tasting of bitter alcohol, wet and sloppy and eager. Keith can feel him smiling against his lips. It’s cruel, everything about this is cruel and wrong. It makes him itchy and hot all over, makes his head spin and his heart thump like mad. Adam knees his legs apart and settles between them, pinning him just like that. He chuckles under his breath when Keith tries to fight back, swallows Keith’s protests before they can even leave his mouth.

Keith tries to turn away from Adam’s lips, but Adam presses his head down on the pillow with a strong jaw, licks into him, unrelenting and remorseless. He grinds their hips together, humming contentedly, and Keith realizes that his struggling does nothing but increase Adam’s gratification. He closes his eyes, forces himself to keep still and keep breathing, even as he trembles. Maybe if he plays dead, Adam will get bored and leave him be.

Adam’s stubble burns his sensitive skin, rubs his lips red and raw. He releases his grip on Keith’s arms and tucks his fingers under Keith’s neck and head, caressing him and pulling at the roots of his hair at the same time. The smell of him fills Keith’s lungs - it’s warm and masculine: his morning cologne, settled into the skin and mixed with a trace of sweat and engine oil. The smell more than anything else stirs something in Keith. It triggers memories he doesn’t want, memories of being pressed against a wall and stripped of his clothes, of dropping to his knees and taking Adam to the back of his mouth, of being stretched and filled and fucked like an animal. He had submitted to Adam like a switch had been flipped. He feels tears push their way to the corners of his eyes as the familiar feeling of unwanted arousal blooms in his core.

Adam breaks away from him just half an inch, laughs disbelievingly under his breath. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, and Keith numbly realizes that he’s been kissing back. Adam’s on him again in an instant and Keith’s mouth works on reflex, guided through a deep kiss. Adam hums happily as his lips slide hungrily over Keith’s own, rough and demanding but so wet and warm. Tears break past the barrier and slide down his temples. _Stop,_ he thinks, but the words don’t make it to his mouth, preoccupied as it is. _Stop, stop, stop._ He’s not sure if the message is meant for Adam or himself.

“Mmm, Keith,” Adam murmurs, pulling away to kiss down his neck and throat. “We should have been doing this a long time ago.” His fingers trail down Keith’s t-shirt and shuck it up his torso, and Adam takes his time to kiss the freshly exposed skin down Keith’s breastbone, down to the soft skin below his ribs, to his belly button, to where his body disappears under the elastic of his waistband. Keith moans shakily and digs his fingers into the sheets as Adam goes lower and lower, kissing his body reverently, like the prayer before a meal.

He’s growing hard against his will, and he knows Adam can feel it as he moves his body down between Keith’s legs, tongue and lips and teeth teasing his sensitive skin. Adam settles his hands around Keith’s waist before sitting up and easily lifting him up on his lap. He kisses Keith’s willing mouth again as he pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Throwing Keith back down to the mattress, Adam runs big hands over his bare chest, making him cry out when strong fingers brush over his sensitive nipples. Adam chuckles darkly and moves his mouth to one, sucks it between his lips and licks over it with his eager tongue. Keith gasps and his hips buck involuntarily, traitorously. He covers his own mouth with his hand as he exhales a moan, but Adam pulls his hand away to hear it. The warm mouth on his body feels so different from his own hands. Better. So much better. He hates it.

“S-Stop,” he manages to gasp, as Adam kisses across to the other side of his chest. “Stop, please stop.”

Adam lifts his head, the cooling wetness left from his mouth making Keith shiver. “But you’re enjoying it so much,” he says with a smile, rolling Keith’s swollen and sensitive nipples in his fingertips.

Keith squeezes his face tight and shakes his head, whispers, “I don’t want to -- I don’t wanna enjoy it.”

Adam laughs at that, reaches a hand down between Keith’s legs and fondles him through his underwear. Keith whimpers and tilts his hips into it, grimacing at himself as he does.

“I really don’t think you can help it,” Adam says with genuine fascination. He sucks a bruise onto Keith’s collarbone as his fingers crawl under the last layer of clothing between them and wrap around Keith’s length, slowly tugging him up and down. Keith whines and twists his legs in the sheets. Adam’s hand is big and warm and experienced and it feels so, so good as it tightens around him, firm and confident.

“Don’t try and deny that you want this,” Adam murmurs, kissing a path back up his neck and to his ear. “Just like last time, you wanted it then, too. It’s okay, it’s natural. You don’t need to fight it.”

Keith despairs. He can’t help the way his body is responding to every touch, can’t help the way the low voice and hot breath at his ear turn him on as much as they frighten him. Adam reignites his memory with a blaze, trailing warm, trespassing hands over his body in the same way he did that first night, possessive and sadistic and tender all at once. The way Keith had tried to recreate on his own in the nights since, hating himself for it afterwards.

He doesn’t have the alcohol in him tonight, though. Doesn’t have the picture of Shiro or the scent of his pillow to try to justify it to himself. If he gives in, it’s all on him. And Shiro... Shiro doesn't deserve this.

“Please,” he tries again, “I don’t --”

But Adam cuts him off with his lips, kisses into Keith over and over as he tugs Keith’s underwear down his hips and lifts his legs up around his waist, grinding into his ass and stroking him steadily with a firm grip. Keith whines and digs his fingers into Adam’s uniform, his jaw working to kiss back before he can stop himself. It feels good, _fuck,_ why does it have to feel so good? He closes his eyes and tries to pretend it’s Shiro. It doesn’t work.

Adam pulls his mouth away with a wet noise, smirking when Keith chases after him. He pushes Keith’s head back to the pillow, one thumb rubbing over his wet, swollen lips.

“None of this would be happening if you didn’t want it, Keith,” he says.

Keith goes still at the words, his heartbeat trembling in his hollow chest. He tries to speak but he finds he can’t even breathe. Adam’s eyes bore into him in the dark, squashing him flat for a breathless moment, and then the man’s lips are back on his own and he can’t think about anything else. He breaks, tears slipping out of his squeezed-shut eyes as he pushes into Adam’s mouth, pushes a little piece of his shattered heart out with every kiss. Adam eats it all up hungrily, takes everything Keith has to give.

Adam trails his hands all over Keith’s body, as if checking his memory of it. He pulls him up by the waist and ruts between his legs, letting Keith feel how hard he is even through the uniform. They grind their mouths and bodies together until Keith is panting hard and trembling as he tries to cling on to Adam’s jacket with shaking fingers.

Adam finally breaks away from Keith’s mouth to moan against his jaw, breathless. Keith feels the noise go through him like a ripcord, tugging arousal deep from his insides and spilling over through the rest of his body. He clumsily pulls at the clasps of Adam’s jacket and scrambles to get his fingers under his shirt. Adam hums appreciatively and mouths at Keith’s neck, his breath hot and suffocating. “You’re so needy already,” he murmurs, a satisfied tone in his throaty voice. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you? Getting off to it?”

Keith doesn’t answer at first, but he whimpers when Adam’s teeth nip at his throat, shudders with it. He nods his head stiffly and can feel Adam smirk, lips curled against his skin.

“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “I have been, too.”

Keith gives a shivery moan, his back arching as his body twists with the words. He doesn’t have time to feel bad about that turning him on so much; Adam pulls him back into a bruising kiss as he shrugs off his jacket and shirt and directs Keith’s hands back to his body, encouraging him to explore all he wants.

Keith runs fingers up Adam’s back, over his shoulders and down his biceps, feels the lean, practical muscle under his warm skin. His body is bigger than Keith’s in every way, made all the more apparent when it’s pressed up against his like this, pinning him down effortlessly. He squirms weakly beneath Adam, and the man only grins and pins him down harder.

Adam lifts Keith’s legs high in the air and pulls his underwear all the way off, then wraps Keith’s legs back around his waist and yanks his ass up onto his lap. Keith gasps at the sudden roughness, trembling as Adam runs big hands down his thighs and over his slim body, pale skin glowing even in the low light from the door control panel. He’s breathless at the way Adam eyes him, ravenous, his breath growing heavy.

Adam circles a hand over the soft, ticklish skin at the inside of Keith’s thighs, uses a thumb to squeeze his ass and hold him open. Keith burns with the humiliation of it.

“I’ve got something for you,” Adam says, searching for something in his pocket, and when Keith hears the pop of a cap and the squelch of something being squeezed out of a bottle, he knows what it is.

He feels a warm, dry hand on his cock first, thumbing over the head and slowly twisting until he can’t help but moan and let his head drop back, one trembling hand running over his own chest to trace over his nipples.

“Good boy, just relax for me, just like last time,” Adam whispers, and Keith feels wet, sticky fingers run between his legs, seek the entrance to his body. He bites on his knuckles as Adam teases, glides two fingers up and down the outside of him, the pressure not quite enough to break past the skin. He whines as he feels himself twitch and clench with each pass of Adam’s fingers, blissfully, addictively good. There’s laughter at the edge of Adam’s breath.

“You’re going to let me fuck you, right, baby?” Adam coos, the pet name dripping sickly sweet from his lips.

Keith groans into his hand and bucks his hips, his body trembling as he hooks his ankles together behind Adam’s back. He can’t bring himself to answer. He squeezes his eyes shut but can still see Adam’s smug, sadistic smile as clear as day in his mind’s eye, looking down at him like he’s a trapped animal, waiting to be devoured.

“I need to hear you say yes,” Adam says, his voice low and dark, hushed. “Just say yes, Keith. You do want it, don’t you? You want me to make you come again?” His hand teases a slow stroke up Keith’s cock, thumbing circles over the sensitive swell of the head, and the fingers at his ass toy with him until Keith can’t stand it anymore.

He breaks.

 _“Y--Yes,”_ he gasps, voice shaking. “Yes.”

Adam chuckles with quiet triumph. “Good boy,” he whispers, and he wraps his hand firmly around the base of Keith’s twitching cock as the first finger enters him.

Keith inhales sharply as it pushes inside and gives an open-mouthed moan as it slides unapologetically out and in again. It’s wrong and filthy and violating but his stomach curdles with sickening arousal, making his cock twitch in Adam’s hand. Adam hums in amusement and pushes another finger in alongside the first. It’s too much. Keith chokes on the pain and scratches at Adam’s arms with a sob, trying to get him to slow down, but Adam just sighs happily, fingers him harder, as if he likes being clawed. “It’s that good, huh?” he teases with a dark chuckle.

He adjusts the angle and Keith yelps, throwing his head back as pleasure sears through him like a flash fire. It still hurts, but it’s good, it’s good, it’s _so_ perversely fucking good he could cry. He moans long and low and Adam chuckles again. “Ah, that’s the spot,” he says, his voice shaky and laced with dangerous arousal.

The hand around Keith’s cock picks up speed, jerking him relentlessly, and the fingers in his ass slide over and over that spot inside of him that feels like heaven. The intensity builds strong and fast until in no time at all he’s brimming with electricity and can feel his end coming, no way to stop it if Adam keeps this up. He moans and wraps his legs tight around Adam’s waist, instinctively drawing him closer. His hands drop to the bed and he clutches desperately at the sheets.

“God, Keith,” Adam whispers, sounding utterly rapt and on some sort of edge himself. “You’re gonna come before I even finish working you open, aren’t you?” He pushes down on Keith’s perineum with his palm and rocks him against the bed with his whole hand. The incredible pressure inside and out makes Keith cry out. His back arches off the mattress and his whole body shakes violently. His mind is nothing but static.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” Adam says, his voice sounding almost pained. “It’s okay if you wanna come. Come for me, baby, yeah... that’s it, good boy…”

And Keith doesn’t have a choice. He writhes, gasping as Adam’s warm hands and voice push him over his limits. With a flash of white behind his eyes, all of the tension in his body snaps and the roar of the orgasm claims him, rips a broken cry from his throat and paints his body with the release. He trembles, riding out the euphoria as Adam’s hands slow to a stop. The man groans above him. He slips his fingers out, and Keith whines at the shock of being suddenly empty.

“Fucking slut,” Adam breathes, as if he doesn’t even mean for Keith to hear it, just says it because it’s the truth. “God, filthy little slut, _fuck.”_ Keith’s too exhausted to disagree with him.

Adam fumbles with the zip of his pants, pulls himself out and hastily slicks himself up with lube and the come that splattered onto his hand. He’s breathing heavy and quivering with anticipation as he lines up with Keith’s shaky body, rubs his thick and heavy cock between Keith’s ass cheeks a couple of times, and that’s all the warning Keith gets before Adam’s pushing inside him with a groan, needy and impatient. Keith feels it like an electric shock, hypersensitive as he is, and he keens as his body stretches painfully. His stressed nerves scream with overstimulation. It’s too soon, too rushed, and he’s still far too sensitive, but Adam keeps pushing in anyway, moaning as he fills Keith up. He wraps his dirty hands around Keith’s legs to hold him still.

“It’s t-too much,” Keith stutters. “I -- I _can’t.”_

“Yes you can, baby, just keep trying for me,” Adam urges him, and he pushes in deeper.

Keith moans, feeling fuller than should be possible. He clutches a hand to his abdomen as if he expects to feel Adam’s cock come bursting through it. Tears swell at the corners of his eyes as Adam bottoms out with a groan, reaching deep into parts of him that he barely even knew existed two weeks ago. His body shakes all over.

“That’s it, good boy,” Adam pants. Angular hips bump against his ass as Adam readjusts them, pressing Keith’s knees right up to his chest and hooking his ankles over Adam’s shoulders.

“Shit,” Keith whispers as Adam leans his weight down on him, taking advantage of his youthful flexibility. Adam pulls out a little and thrusts back into him with a grunt, testing out the angle, and Keith cries as the movement rips through his whole body. The position is humiliating, completely dominating - Adam has him pinned helplessly to the bed, folded over himself with his weak and shaking legs flung over Adam’s shoulders like a rag doll, leaving him with no room to move, no room for what’s left of his dignity. He digs sharp fingernails into Adam’s thighs, tries to push him away, but Adam growls and grabs his wrists, pins them above his head, and then he can’t move at all, has no choice but to lie there and take what he’s given. _“Shit,”_ he gasps again, his heart beating like crazy as Adam leans down and cruelly kisses his temple. It’s too much - Keith is thrumming with overstimulation and gasping for breath that he can’t seem to catch.

“Still so tight,” Adam murmurs happily. He shuffles his knees down the bed and lowers more of himself onto on Keith, impossibly bending him over even more. He takes both of Keith’s hands in one of his, squeezes his wrists together easily, and uses his other hand to grip into Keith’s hair, hold him still. Keith whimpers in pain and squirms uselessly in the man’s grasp, and with a pleased sigh, Adam begins to fuck him in earnest.

He starts slow, one last shred of sympathy that Keith doesn’t have the presence of mind to appreciate, but it doesn’t take long before the pace picks up. Adam mutters in his ear, words that Keith recognizes but can’t understand at the moment, the higher functions of his brain temporarily switched off. It’s hard and hurried, rougher than last time, or maybe Keith’s just less prepared. Maybe it’s just harder to enjoy or even tolerate it with the orgasm rushing out of him instead of the other way around. He shuts his eyes and lets tears fall down his face as Adam fucks him and fucks him and fucks him, pounds him hard into the mattress with a guttural moan and hot, ragged breathing in Keith’s ear. Keith’s mouth hangs open and he doesn’t bother trying to stop the whimpering noises that Adam forces out of him. He lets his body go, gives it over to the beast that has him in its jaws, knowing he can do nothing but wait until it’s had its fill.

“Fuck,” Adam eventually moans above him, digging his fingers hard into Keith’s wrists and scalp as his breathing grows louder, more ragged. _“Fuck,_ baby.” With a growl, he sits suddenly up on his knees and roughly pushes Keith’s legs to the left, flipping him almost all the way over onto his stomach without even pulling out of his ass. Keith gasps, yanked from his half-conscious state, but then Adam is back on top of him and knocking the air back out of his lungs.

Adam gives him no time to adjust to the new position before he’s fucking him even harder than before, groaning with each deep thrust. Keith cries out as Adam grips his hair again and pulls his head back, forces his back to arch like a cat. His other hand settles around Keith’s bared throat, squeezing his fingertips underneath Keith’s jaw. Keith can feel his rapid heartbeat pulse against Adam’s fingers, so strong it feels like his veins might burst. His battered, exhausted body provides no resistance against Adam’s cock, slick and mercilessly hard as it slides in and out of his ass like it’s nothing. The movement inside of him is powerful and rhythmic, almost hypnotic. It demands his attention, demands everything he has.

He moans as much as Adam will let him, throat bobbing underneath his large hand, as the man’s cock passes over his prostate. It doesn’t hurt anymore; his body has loosened up too much, limp and pliant under Adam’s dominating touch, but the intensity building inside him just keeps growing. He can’t tell if it feels good or bad. He feels like he’s going to lose his mind.  

“P-please,” he whispers, voice hoarse and painful. He doesn’t know what he’s begging for, doesn’t know if he wants Adam to stop or keep going or make him come again, doesn’t know if he would even survive that, but the words come pouring out of him anyway. “Please, please…”

Adam’s breath is hot against his skin, face buried in his neck as he moans. “Little cockslut, begging for it,” he growls in Keith’s ear. “You love being assfucked, baby?”

Keith whines loudly, nodding as much as he can - he’d agree to anything right now.

“Ohh, you’re so good,” Adam groans. _“Fuck_ you’re good, you little _slut.”_ His thrusts grow erratic, desperately chasing his end. “Gonna make me come, baby, _fuck.”_

Adam drills in impossibly deep and pulls Keith close to him, yanks his hair hard and squeezes tight around his throat, clamps his teeth down at the junction of his shoulder. He gasps with a hiss as his body shakes against Keith’s for a second, two seconds, and then with an awed and broken moan, he comes. Keith can feel his cock throb and pulse inside of him, shoot warmth deep into the hidden corners of his body, claiming him inside and out. His mind goes blank of everything else.

Adam groans as he shakily fucks into him a few more times before releasing his grip and collapsing on top of him. The room goes quiet, save for their combined panting and Adam’s muffled groaning against the crook of Keith’s neck.

Keith shakes as his body comes down. He clenches involuntarily around Adam’s cock and the man gasps and jerks forward, moaning almost in pain. His cock twitches inside of Keith’s ass. It does something to his head. He waits a few moments and then squeezes again, on purpose this time, and Adam’s breath catches as he twitches reflexively. A fucked up part of Keith likes it. He likes the feeling of bringing this big, awful man to his knees with just his body, even if he didn’t do much except lay there and let himself be devoured. _Slut,_ a voice in his head tells him. Adam’s voice. _Filthy little slut. None of this would happen if you didn’t want it._ He supposes it’s true. A clawing sort of hollowness starts to stir back in his stomach, but he doesn’t have the energy right now to really care.

Adam sighs and pulls out of him with a groan. It feels sloppy and awful: the sudden emptiness is sobering and Keith can feel come leak out of his ass. He makes a weak noise in his throat and tries to reach a shaky hand down to cover himself up, but Adam beats him to it. He pushes his fingers back into Keith - three, Keith thinks, but he can’t even tell anymore - and massages them slowly over his prostate. Keith moans, slumping back on the bed in defeat. There’s no point in doing anything while Adam’s still here. His body isn’t his own to use.

Adam pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the back of Keith’s thighs, squeezes his ass cheeks and gives them a satisfied pat. “I can’t stay,” he says, as if Keith would even want him to. “Takashi’s probably already wondering where I am.” He leans down and kisses Keith’s neck, the back of his shoulders, and Keith’s whole body shivers. He hates the way Adam does this, kisses and touches him like he cares, like they’re lovers. There’s something sick about it. He’d rather he just take what he wants and leave. Maybe Keith would enjoy it less, then.

“One last thing,” Adam says, and pulls his comm device out of his pants pocket. With the other hand he stretches Keith’s ass open, there’s a flash of white light and a click, and Keith realizes with horror that he’s been photographed.

“Forgot to do this last time,” Adam says by way of explanation. “Wanna see?”

He doesn’t give Keith time to answer before the comm is in his face and Keith’s looking with disgust and humiliation at the picture of himself, stretched open and red and leaking a line of come. He opens his mouth to protest, to beg, but as he looks up at Adam he’s only met with another flash.

“Didn’t get your face,” Adam says. He’s smiling awfully, lit up by the blue light of the comm device as he looks down at the screen. “You look so good all fucked out and pretty.”

“S-Shiro will…” Keith starts pathetically, too shocked and exhausted to think how to form a proper sentence, but Adam doesn’t bother waiting around to listen.

“Don’t worry, he won’t find out.” He leans down and catches Keith’s lips in his own, mumbling “I promise” against them, before kissing Keith again on the forehead and standing up to get his clothes back on.

Keith pulls his blanket up over his abused body and curls up into himself, too scared to ask that Adam delete the evidence. He knows it’s pointless anyway. He watches silently as Adam pulls his shirt back over his head, slides his glasses back on. Keith can’t understand how he looks so calm about everything, how he can walk home to Shiro and pretend like nothing happened after doing something so terrible. Shiro deserves so much better than him. _He deserves better than both of us,_ Keith corrects himself, clenching his teeth.

“I’ll tell Takashi you say hi, then,” Adam says, clipping together the last clasp of his jacket.

“W-wha--” Keith stammers with panic and dread. “Don’t --”

“I’m joking.” The roll of Adam’s eyes is almost audible, and Keith burns, but Adam sits on the bed and smiles as he strokes the hair out of Keith’s face. “You need to relax a bit. He knows something’s up with you, so you really need to stay calm and keep going like things are normal.”

“How,” Keith says flatly, spitting the word out with a bitter scowl. “Nothing about this is normal. This is all fucked up.”

“You’re doing well,” Adam says. “Don’t worry, it’ll get easier.”

Keith rolls his head over, hides his face in the mattress. “I don’t want to lie to him,” he whispers, as if admitting some shameful secret. Guilt crawls up his neck and holds him tight around the throat like a noose. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Adam looks down at him for a moment, silent, and Keith wonders if he might actually be feeling sympathy for him. Maybe Adam will display just a shred of human decency, show Keith just one small act of kindness, and let this end.

But it’s too much to ask, of course it is. Nothing’s ever that easy in Keith’s life.

“It’s far too late for that,” Adam says eventually. “You can’t take it back now, but you can at least make sure he never finds out.”

When Keith doesn’t respond, Adam pushes him further. There’s an almost worried tone in his voice, insistent. “Hey, you know you can’t tell him, right Keith? You can’t tell anyone. You know what will happen.”

Keith knows; he can see it behind his squeezed-shut eyes: the betrayal, the disgust on Shiro’s face, turning away from him for the last time, leaving him with nothing, alone and despised on the other side of the solar system with no one to turn to and no future to look forward to. He’s been there before; he doesn’t think he could survive going back.  

He nods his head.

Adam sighs heavily and stands. “Get some sleep, Keith,” he says. Keith doesn’t look up, just hears the beep of the door and the hiss as it shuts again behind him.

He wraps himself around his pillow and cries again, loud, racking sobs he doesn’t need to keep quiet anymore. He clenches his fists so hard his fingernails tear into his skin, tugs at his own hair and screams into the pillow until he empties all the awful, chaotic fuzz filling up his head, but he’s still left with a deep, aching emptiness, exhausted in every way he could possibly be, left with nothing but guilt and regret and the knowledge that something about him is fundamentally fucked up. It has to be, to have let this happen again, to have said yes again, to have _come from it_ again. Maybe there was a chance that Shiro could have forgiven him after the first time. Maybe. But now, he doesn’t have a chance at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you have come to scream at me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/theodoramyhoney/status/1095083172461596672) and I love it, so don't be shy. I wrote this fic and you read it so no shame. Lol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > It feels good hurting Keith, he’s not above admitting that to himself. He had to hide a lot from Shiro. The man’s not so vanilla he can’t enjoy a good, hard, fuck, but the desire to completely dominate someone, the exhilarating, unique pleasure taken from inflicting pain and overriding another's will, that’s something Shiro never knew about, never would have allowed. It feels good to finally have an outlet for that, and it feels good to finally share it, show somebody the darkest parts of himself and have them be acknowledged and accepted.
>> 
>> And Keith does accept, accepts everything he’s given.
> 
> Faced with a relationship that doesn't seem salvageable, Adam finds comfort where he can get it. 

It becomes routine after that.

Whenever, wherever, however Adam wants him: trembling on all fours on his creaky dorm bed; moaning beautifully on his back with his legs wrapped around Adam’s hips; down on his knees to put his pouting little mouth to good use; even straddling on top of him, eyes squeezed shut and whimpering as Adam roams hungry hands and eyes over Keith’s exposed little body.

At first it’s only once or twice a week, but Adam gets bolder as Shiro gets busier, sneaks his way into Keith’s room whenever Shiro’s kept by late-night meetings or busy at work in his office. Sometimes he’ll get the urge after Shiro’s fallen asleep for the night, and he slips out of their shared bed and down the dead corridors to Keith’s lone room, tucked away out of sight of the main walkways like his own secret little retreat. He opens the door with a grin he can’t contain, knowing Keith too will be asleep by now. There’s a perverse thrill in waking him up with a warm hand under his shirt, a tongue pushing its way into his mouth as he settles his weight down on him. Keith’s moaning is sleepy and croaky and his grip around Adam’s body is weak as Adam slides inside of him, mouthing at his neck and whispering into his ears. If he feels like being gentle, he can even finish up and slip away again without Keith ever opening his eyes, pretending to himself he’s dreaming, despite the way he pants for breath and whine-whispers as Adam brings him to climax.

Keith’s getting better at hiding his guilt, which is just as well because Shiro’s started spending more time with him again, guilty over how hard Keith’s taking his upcoming departure. Adam tries not to let it bother him, but he can’t deny he feels something akin to jealousy when the two of them are out on their own. It never used to faze him; over the last couple of years he’d grown indifferent to where Shiro was or what he did with his time, so long as he came home to Adam’s bed every night, but now it’s different. Maybe it’s the principle of it, the fact that Shiro ought to be spending his last days before he leaves for the edges of space with his boyfriend, not his lovesick little protégé.

Or maybe it’s not Shiro that he’s jealously clutching onto, but Keith. Keith, with his big, dark eyes hidden behind darker hair, his meager smile he reserves only for Shiro, his perfect little body, soft and slender and tight in all the right places that Adam knows he would offer to Shiro willingly, eagerly, if only Shiro weren’t too much of a coward to accept it. Keith’s admiration, devotion, his desire, Shiro has it all and he does nothing with it, lets it all go to waste. Adam burns with impatient yearning whenever they’re together, distracts himself by dreaming up all the things he’ll do to Keith next.

Days that Shiro has time to spend a whole afternoon with the kid are rare, but when it happens they go out to the desert on hoverbikes. Shiro uses his position to bend the rules for Keith, and the favoritism gets under Adam’s skin. It’s more than Keith deserves, and Adam makes sure to remind him of it when he inevitably makes his way to the boy’s room after each of these outings, half-way to drunk more often than not by the time they get back in the dark.

The happy glow of spending time with his beloved is stripped from Keith when Adam finds him, and he bows his head, looks up at Adam meekly from beneath dark locks of hair as he resigns himself to what comes next. Adam knows he looks forward to this, though, as much as he would never admit it. He knows it by the way Keith moans and trembles when Adam’s lips find his body, by the way Keith’s usually hard before his hands even touch his cock.

“Takashi really is an idiot,” he tells Keith, whispering in his ear like it's their own little secret. “He’s so determined to see the good in everyone, he can’t see what scum we really are. There’d be no more of those fun little hoverbike trips if he figured it out, would there?” It’s low-hanging fruit, an easy way to get a reaction, but it does the job and Adam smiles as Keith sniffles. “Lucky for us, though. I don’t think a guy as good as him can even comprehend degenerates like us.”

Nights like these, after Keith’s been out with Shiro for hours, Adam’s rougher, meaner, prepares Keith less in his haste to get inside and remark his territory. He doesn’t bother to get Keith off either, although sometimes Keith takes care of that himself. It’s a small punishment to make up for the way Shiro spoils him.

He doesn’t stop Keith from seeing Shiro - he suspects that Keith could endure anything for the man - but he tolerates it a little easier knowing that the bruises adorning Keith’s body and the dark circles under his eyes are proof of his place under Adam's thumb.

It feels good hurting Keith, he’s not above admitting that to himself. He had to hide a lot from Shiro. The man’s not so vanilla he can’t enjoy a good, hard, fuck, but the desire to completely dominate someone, the exhilarating, unique pleasure taken from inflicting pain and overriding another's will, that’s something Shiro never knew about, never would have allowed. It feels good to finally have an outlet for that, and it feels good to finally share it, show somebody the darkest parts of himself and have them be acknowledged and accepted.

And Keith does accept, accepts everything he’s given. Adam’s blown away by what the boy lets him get away with, what he manages to enjoy. He’s made the kid come while crying more times than he can count and he loves it, loves to pin him to the mattress and throw him roughly around, choke him on his cock and split his ass open with it, make him beg to be fucked. Adam’s become addicted, looking forward to the night and ending his workday with an eager smile, rather than dragging himself home to a nagging, needy boyfriend who probably won’t put out.

He documents the events of each night with photos and videos - Keith propped up and displayed like a toy doll, his ass stretched wide around Adam’s cock, down on his knees with his mouth filled up with it, his face covered in tears and drool and come. Most mornings, Adam lays lazily in bed while Shiro showers, flicks through his growing collection and jerks himself off to it.

He gets a thrill out of fucking Shiro after visiting Keith, too: pushing his dirty cock into Shiro’s ass and hearing him moan and call his name, getting off on Shiro having no idea that he hasn’t long been inside their precious shared pet. He kisses Shiro with a mouth still wet from Keith’s, a twisted exchange of saliva that Shiro doesn’t know he’s a part of. Adam fills him with come the same way he does Keith and wonders if they feel the connection, the both of them vessels for his generosity.

His opportunities for that are thinning out, though. The burst of excitement that Keith unwittingly brought to their relationship wore off after a few weeks, and they’re back to their usual bickering, escalating into arguing, escalating easily into a full on fight as if it's the natural order of their relationship. As usual, Kerberos is the main point of discussion.

“I don’t want to hear this anymore, Adam,” Shiro says from where he’s slumped at the dinner table, closing his eyes in weary frustration. “I thought you understood. Just a matter of weeks ago you were saying you’d support me.”

Adam snorts an angry sigh, fingers twitching around the glass of alcohol in his palm as he paces around their cramped quarters. That was after Keith had first come calling, when Adam had gone to Shiro and swallowed his pride enough to fake an apology for all the fighting. God, how much he regrets it now. He’s tempted to tell Shiro as much.

“You’re throwing your life away, Takashi, how am I supposed to support that?” he says instead, reiterating the same points they’ve gone over and over and over again in the months since Shiro sent in his application for the mission. “All we’ve been through together, all we’ve sacrificed, and you want to throw that and everything else you have away!”

“No, that’s -- that’s not what this is and you know it,” Shiro says, sitting up straight and reluctantly getting dragged into the fight Adam’s looking for tonight. “We’ve been over this - I’m not throwing anything away, it's _you_ who's --”

“Don't give me that shit again,” Adam interrupts. “You’re always blaming me for this, but if you really cared about our relationship then we wouldn't even be fighting in the first place. You'd turn the offer down.”

“Adam, I can’t do that. You _know_ I can’t do that. You can’t expect me to give this up.”

Adam knows, of course, after four years he knows full well the extent of Shiro’s stubbornness, his almost petty refusal to compromise. He grits his teeth, digging his heels in. “And _you_ can’t expect _me_ to put everything on hold for you as you _throw away_ the last good years of your life for some egotistical sense of glory," he hisses, grabbing the bottle of alcohol from the table to pour himself another drink. It burns down his throat but the pain feels good, keeps his fire going. Shiro hasn't even touched his glass and that annoys him, far more than it should.

“It’s not about _glory,”_ Shiro says with an indignant huff. “It’s -- ugh, you know what, I don’t need to justify this to you. I’ve explained it all before; either you support me, or you don’t.” He stands and walks past Adam without another look, walking towards their bedroom at the back.

He’s so close, so close to tipping Shiro over the edge, to getting a good rise out of him, and maybe it’s the jealousy or the alcohol or just the accumulation of weeks and weeks of little jabs since their last big row, little grumbles and micro-arguments that Shiro never let come to a head and now all want to burst through all at once, but tonight Adam wants that rise so bad, wants to set off an explosion between the two of them just to see what will happen.

“Oh, great, go on and walk away again,” he says to Shiro’s back, and when he’s ignored he tries something with a bit more bite. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever even bothered with you.”

Shiro pauses and turns around with an angry glare, biting down hard on the bait, and they’re off again. “You are _such_ an asshole, do you know that? You just can’t handle seeing me succeed, can you? You’ve resented me ever since I started ranking above you.”

Adam’s brows snap with the first real pang of fury: Shiro’s finally starting to hit him with something real. It stings, but the anger is almost addictive, and he wields it like a tool. “At least I’m not so arrogant and selfish I think I can fuck off for three years and expect everything to just be waiting for me when I get back.”

“Oh, _I’m_ being selfish?” Shiro cries, outraged. “You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself a day in your life, you’ve never even _tried_ to care about what I want, and you’re so emotionally vacant I don’t even know if you _can!”_

Thats gets him, a searing splash of gasoline to set his spark alight, and he wants to feed it until it’s a roaring fire, devouring them both. His lungs burn when he inhales for his next attack.

“Fuck you,” he snarls. “You’re fucking delusional, Takashi. You’re terminally ill and in denial about it -- you’re gonna come home and realize that you don’t have anything left that really matters to you, and when that happens you’re going to wish you had listened to me.”

Adam watches him take the blow with an expression of shocked rage, a _how dare you_ look in his grey eyes that tells him it worked. Bringing up his illness is a low blow, below-the-belt in their silent agreement for how these fights go down, but right now Adam doesn't care.

Shiro pauses just a moment, staring at him for a few shallow breaths, and with a clenched jaw Adam watches and waits for his response. _Back down,_ he thinks. _Take the blow and back down and I won’t take it any further._

But Shiro doesn’t back down. With an angry show of his teeth, he spits his own fire right back. “And you’re an alcoholic who has to control everyone around you because you can’t control yourself.”

That cuts him deep, much deeper than he was expecting, and Adam sees red, furious, absolutely fucking furious, both at what Shiro said and the fact that he’s not surrendering, forcing Adam into a place they’re both going to regret. _You fucking bastard. Fucking scum-sucking son of a bitch._ He doesn’t give a shit anymore: if Shiro wants to push him to this then so be it. He’s not losing this fight.

His insides are burnt black, consumed by the fire that rages in him now, wild and out of control. “You’re not going to find anyone else to love you, but if you really want to die alone and miserable like your _cunt_ mother then by all fucking means don’t let me get in your way!”

The room goes silent, and a terrible shadow falls over Shiro’s face as he stares at Adam with nothing but pure, cold contempt. Adam breathes heavily, his hand clenched tight and shaking with rage around his empty glass, as he realizes what he said. He crossed a line, he _really_ fucking crossed a line, and while he can’t say he didn’t mean it, he knows he fucked up. The dead family that Shiro never mentions, the childhood trauma and insecurities and deepest fears that took him _months_ to finally open up about, and Adam used it against him. He really fucked up this time. He crossed _the_ big line that he’s not meant to cross, _ever,_ and that’s not a winning move - that’s self-assured defeat, and they both know it.

He’s lost because Shiro would never stoop so low as to do the same to him, and he suddenly flashes back to a summer night years ago, back when he was more hopeful about Shiro and the rest of the world, when he really thought that maybe Shiro could fix him, that they could be good for one another, and they held each other and cried together as Adam for the first time in his life gave words to his damage, acknowledged the horrific memories locked tight away in the very most bottom parts of his soul, told Shiro secrets that he should have kept with him to his grave. Shiro would never throw that in his face like Adam just did to him. Never. Even so, his heart hammers with fear at just the thought of it.

When Shiro speaks, it’s with a low voice, commanding and final. “Get out,” he says. “I don’t want to see you again tonight.”

Adam flares with a last burst of rage, but he’s already lost this fight. With a frustrated yell he hurls his glass at the wall to his left, destroying it with a satisfying shatter, and turns towards the door. Shiro gasps and flinches away from the violence but Adam couldn’t care less; he grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and storms away, slamming the door control-button over and over again until it finally slides open.

He’ll leave for the night, that’s fine. It's fine. There’s no point in trying to get Shiro to change his mind now, and besides, there’s somewhere else he’d far rather be anyway.

\--

The fury and stinging humiliation follow him all the way there, making his head spin as he strides down each corridor, around each corner of the sprawling, deserted building. His legs take him there on autopilot, which is just as well because his brain is far too preoccupied with the hundred thoughts in his head, buzzing around like a swarm of angry hornets. His chest is tight with rage, head swollen and dizzy with it, bubbling just under his skin and ready to burst out of him at the slightest provocation. He stretches his hands from claws to fists, digs his nails into his palms to stop himself from splitting his knuckles open on the concrete walls.

A feeling of preemptive relief washes over him when he rounds the final corner and sees Keith’s doorway, already anticipating the release that he needs. He overrides the lock and steps inside, turns on the light and immediately pulls his jacket off his shoulders, peels away his skintight top as he steps towards the bed. He’s not here to waste any more time.

Keith props himself up on one elbow and looks up at him sleepy and confused, his eyes squinted shut against the light. He looks so small and delectably helpless as the blanket slips down him, showing Adam the soft curve of his neck and the bruises ringed around it. So tragic and sad and beautiful, a poor little lamb, about to be sacrificed in the name of Adam's righteous anger.

He gives no warning, no greeting, just grabs Keith with a handful of his hair and pulls him up, slams his back to the wall and kisses him roughly. Keith cries out, his arms going to Adam’s wrists to try to loosen his grip, but to no avail. Adam holds him tight and unforgiving, holding Keith’s jaw open and licking into him until Keith whines and gives in and starts kissing back around his thick tongue.

That mouth, god, he wants inside that mouth right fucking now. He doesn't want to wait, and why should he have to? Keith finds it easier if he goes a bit slower, warms him up a bit more, but Adam has needs too, and it's time Keith learns he has to be willing to compromise if he wants to make this work.

He breaks away and drags Keith down the bed, ignoring his cries of pain as he twists him around and gets him upside down on his back. Adam stands over him, grips his hair to hold him a foot or so off the mattress, shoves a couple of pillows under his head to line him up at the right height. He unzips and pulls his cock out, almost completely hard already, and lets it fall heavy on Keith’s face. Keith whimpers and Adam sighs low in his throat, finally feeling some of that stinging anger start to subside.

He grips around himself with one hand and slowly strokes, rubs his foreskin over and over Keith’s lips, his balls brushing against the boy's forehead. Keith wraps his trembling hands around the back of Adam’s thighs, darting his tongue out to catch the head of Adam’s cock in good little kitten licks. Such a sweet, obedient little boy. Fuck, this slut is exactly what Adam needs.

Fully hard, Adam nudges his boots off and strips the rest of his clothes before lining his cock back up. He smacks Keith’s lips with it then pushes at the seam of his mouth, requesting entry. “Open up,” he growls, and Keith does.

Adam moans as he pushes slow into the wet, warm cavern of Keith’s mouth, pushing the tip of his cock down the length of his tongue, nice and deep until he gags. He relents just a little and then pushes in again over and over, his balls dragging over Keith’s face as he thrusts his hips. He gets in a little deeper each time, feeling the tight passage of Keith’s throat start to open up and accept him.

He tugs Keith’s shirt up to his armpits, revealing dark nipples that Adam’s hands are immediately drawn to. He rubs the pads of his thumbs over the hard little nubs and Keith moans around his cock. His own starts growing beneath his underwear, and Adam reaches forward to rub it to life, get it going nice and hard.

Pushing further into Keith’s throat, he rubs a comforting hand over the boy’s neck, encouraging him to relax. Keith’s never deepthroated him properly, never taken his cock all the way into his mouth. He probably didn’t even know he could be pried open that way. He’s been babied. But it’s okay, because Adam’s here to teach him now.

“Relax,” he coos sweetly, finally pulling out to let Keith get a good catch of his breath. “Just let me all the way in, okay? All the way in. Don’t be scared, it won’t hurt much.”

Keith makes a nervous noise that could be a consent, and Adam eases back in.

He pushes on that tightness in the most back, soft reaches of Keith's mouth, pushes and pushes until his throat starts to give way to the intrusion. He's so fucking tight, so incredibly tight and wet and warm and perfect and Adam groans low in his chest to tell Keith as much. He feels Keith’s throat convulse as he tries his best not to gag around the cock exploring new reaches of his body, and Adam gasps and moans at the feeling, eyes falling shut in ecstasy.

It’s a slow press, just one gentle, beautiful millimeter at a time, until all of a sudden it isn’t and Keith’s throat finally gives way, swallows him all to the root. Adam swears and takes a moment to catch his breath. Fuck, a few more strokes and he could be coming from this already. “God,” he moans breathily. “Fuck yes, baby, _fuck_ yes, your throat’s so fucking tight.”

Keith whines in fear and pain and Adam feels it run through him, gasps a little whisper and jerks his hips forward. He stays there a moment, dizzy with arousal, until another urgent whine reminds him to pull out.

Keith gasps for breath, choking on his own saliva, rivers of it spilling out the sides of his mouth. He pants and groans weakly.

“You feel so good, Keith,” Adam praises him. He looks down into Keith’s dark eyes, delights at the hazy, trance-like look in them, staring at Adam as if he can’t see him at all. “How long can you hold your breath?” he asks, smiling when Keith can only pant in response. “Well, let’s find out then.”

He slides back into Keith's mouth and eases into that far tightness again, watching himself fill out Keith's jaw, making him bulge and silencing his moans. Once again, he buries his cock to the very hilt, disappearing entirely within the boy’s mouth. He makes wet, sloppy noises as Adam facefucks him, back arched beautifully off the bed and clinging onto Adam's thighs for dear life.

Adam wraps two hands around Keith’s slender neck and he can _feel_ his cock in there, feel it stretching Keith from the inside over and over, feel it sliding in the shaft of Keith’s throat, tight and spasming around him as it instinctively tries to swallow down the intrusion. “God, _fuck,”_ he moans. It feels so fucking good and he’s so worked up and buzzing from the fight earlier, high on adrenaline and so desperate for release that he could come already. But he wants to prolong this, wants to really unleash everything he has on Keith, flush his system of it all.

He pulls out to another choking gasp from Keith, slaps his face with his swollen cock a few times. “You’re fucking perfect,” he says, rubbing it over Keith’s dripping wet lips. He dips in one last time, savoring that tight, hot throat with a few slow thrusts - “fucking perfect” - then with great self-discipline he pulls out again.

“Turn around,” he commands. “Face down, ass up.”

Keith trembles as he pulls himself up on his hands and knees, collapsing his front to the bed and keeping his ass out for display. Adam get an impatient hand around his underwear and tugs them down to his knees, then rubs a warm hand over each of Keith’s ass cheeks, gives them a good squeeze.

He sets a hand at the dip of Keith’s lower back, tilting it inwards so he arches nice, gives him a good grip to keep him still. “You’re such a good boy,” Adam coos, knowing the praise makes Keith go wild, and Keith yelps as Adam sends a firm, open palm down on his ass.

He gasps for breath from the shock of the sharp sting, but falls back to moaning as Adam rubs gentle circles over the spot he just hit. “Such a good boy,” he repeats, then sends a smack down onto the other cheek.

Keith cries out again, shaking when he can’t move away from Adam's grip. “So good, just for me,” Adam hums, and he smacks him again and again, finally able to let go a little, finally finding an outlet for his frustrations. The satisfying crack though the room as he unleashes on Keith, the way the boy moans and tries futilely to get away, the stinging of his palm between smacks, it’s all proof of Adam’s rightful dominance. He feels himself start to stitch back together even as he gets lost in the act. He feels right, finally, feels himself again with this boy shaking and whimpering under his hand. Shiro never gave him this, Shiro always denied him the recognition and respect that he deserved, but Keith... Keith gives him everything he’s ever needed.

He hits Keith harder and harder until his ass is red and raw and his whole body is shaking. He could easily get carried away, unleash everything he has until Keith's entire ass is bruised blue, but when Keith starts to cry - properly cry - Adam restrains himself. He’s satisfied enough with that, for now.

He releases Keith’s hips, rubbing his abused cheeks and gently shushing the boy when he whimpers at the touch. “You're so strong, baby,” he says, and he really means it. “You can take so much punishment. It's incredible.”

He stretches Keith's cheeks and looks at his pretty hole, watches the way it winks at him like an invitation, and the temptation of Keith's flesh is too much. He leans in and tastes it, his tongue flat and firm as it licks a filthy, wet stripe over Keith's ass.

Keith gasps and tries to pull away. “D-don’t, that’s --” he stammers with a sob, but Adam grabs him and brings him back to his mouth.

“Keep still,” he says. “Don't be ashamed, you’ll like this,” and he licks up into Keith again.

Keith groans and clenches everything up tight, but it doesn’t take long for him to relax, get lost in the ecstasy of having his ass eaten out. Adam’s tongue swipes over him again and again, savoring the dark, salty taste. He leans back to inspect his work, sees Keith's hole stretched open and shining with spit, sees the delicate skin between his cheeks glowing red from stubble-burn, and he eagerly dives back in again.

Keith moans and shakes in a way Adam’s never seen him before, little bursts of squirming that jolt through him like hiccups, his hips twitching where he’s propped high in the air. He gasps with each one, moaning more as they get stronger, more frequent. Adam keeps licking and sucking and dipping his tongue inside, and eventually Keith is quivering head to toe. “I-inside -- mmn -- f-fingers,” he gasps, reaching a hand back and tapping Adams head urgently.

“What do you want?” Adam asks, smirking as he pulls away from Keith's ass.

“Finger me -- p-please, finger me," Keith sobs.

“I’d rather see you finger yourself,” Adam murmurs with a pleased grin. He reaches for the spot under the mattress where they keep the lube, presses the bottle into Keith’s hand.

Keith doesn’t hesitate, reaching back with both hands to pop the cap off the bottle, squeeze cold, sticky lubricant onto his slender fingers. He brings his wet and shaking hand quickly to his ass, rubs his middle and ring fingers over his eager hole and then pushes in with a moan, reaching as far as he can go.

Adam salivates as he watches the show, the slide of two thin fingers in and out and in again of Keith's tight hole. Keith pulls out and adds his pinky, the third finger stretching him even more. Whining, he twists his hand around and angles the digits towards his prostate, rubbing into it with a circular motion of his wrist. Adam helps him by stretching his ass open with both hands, moaning as Keith works himself until his whole body shakes and he thrusts his hips instinctively, pushing back onto his own fingers with a wet squelch and a beautiful, wild moan. His cock leaks where it hangs between his legs, dripping precome down onto the blanket below, and when Keith goes to touch it Adam pushes his hand back down on the bed. “I want to see you come like this,” he says. “Fingerfuck yourself until you come untouched like a good little slut.”

Keith writhes, crying out into the mattress below him as Adam slicks a finger up and slides one inside him too, just two knuckles deep, to feel the swell of his prostate, engorged with the need to come. He pushes on it, guiding Keith’s fingers with his own and rolling over it again and again, and Keith’s breathing pattern shifts, gasping in lungful after lungful of air with a pained whine wet with tears. His voice rises higher and higher with each gasp, breathing even harder now, until suddenly he goes quiet, his breath stopped altogether, and with a last couple of choking sobs, his body jolts and spasms all over, he cries out like he’s been kicked.

Keith climaxes without ejaculating and Adam feels it, feels the boy clench and pulse around their tangled up fingers. Adam is awed. Keith's beautiful, he’s so fucking beautiful and perverted and fucked up perfectly, all for him, and it’s too fucking good to be true. “God, baby, yes,” he moans. “Fuck, you’re so hot, fucking christ.”

Adam gives him a moment to ride out that high, rolling shallow, light circles over his swollen gland before picking the pace back up, pushing with a little more force. Keith moans and then sobs as he’s brought already towards another orgasm, and Adam can’t wait any longer.

“I need to be inside you,” he growls, pulling his hand free and pouring lube over his cock. He lines it up with Keith’s hole and Keith’s fingers slip out before he slips in, leaving his ass stretched open and waiting for him. He groans, filling out Keith with everything he has, and he only has to pull Keith’s hips back in towards his a few times before Keith’s coming again.

This one goes on even longer than the last, and the spasming around Adam’s cock is incredible. He keeps still as Keith rocks his hips backwards, gasping as he fucks himself through the climax. Adam’s never been a religious man but christ, the passage of Keith’s ass is the closest thing he’s found to something holy, and it feels sent to him by god himself.

“Oh-h, _fuck,_ Keith,” Adam groans. “Baby, you feel so fucking good. _Fuck_ you’re gonna make me come so hard, holy shit.”

Keith pants in exhaustion, nonverbal, just making squeaking little grunts as Adam lifts his hips back up high and starts fucking him hard, too lost in this to try and hold himself back anymore. Keith is just too perfect, and Adam is only human.

He grabs a handful of Keith’s hair and yanks, drags him up so they’re touching back to chest, and shoves three fingers in his mouth. Keith moans as he slobbers around them, lines of spit running from his face and down Adam’s hand. He fucks the helpless boy like that, firm cock bouncing in and out of his hot, tight ass as they fill the room with breathless moaning and the animalisitc sound of skin slapping against skin.

Adam closes his eyes, hangs his head down by Keith’s, breathing in his ear and against the crook of his neck. He can feel the rumble of growing climax in his gut and he doesn’t stop chasing it even as he tries to hold it off, tries to make this last as long as he possibly can.

He swears and shoves Keith back down to the bed again, kneeling behind him and leaning over his body. He pushes Keith's face into the mattress with one hand, the other at Keith’s lower back to keep him arched and his hips up in the air as he fucks him like something deranged and feral. He pushes his weight down on Keith, keeps him squashed and completely unable to move while he pounds in and out of his ass. The boy starts to breathe like he’s hyperventilating again and Adam keeps fucking him hard, keeps holding out because he _needs_ to feel Keith come one more time, and then there’s another tight twitch through the boy’s body and with a muffled cry, Keith’s climaxing around his cock again.

It feels incredible, absolutely fucking incredible - not just the physical sex but the power, the thrill of complete domination over Keith, over _someone, finally,_ someone who will obey him without question, someone who appreciates what Adam’s worth, what Adam can _give_ them if they would just listen to him and let him. The power is a head rush and Adam feels drunk with it, feels like he's higher than he's ever been before.

He pulls out of Keith’s ass and turns him around with a handful of his hair. “Come here, open your mouth,” he growls, voice dark and desperate.

Breathlessly, Keith does. He flinches when Adam presses his cock just on the cushioning pink shelf of his lips, swollen and dripping with drool, and Adam starts jerking himself urgently.

 _“F-fuck…”_ he moans, his cock bouncing up and down between Keith’s plump lips. Keith winces, trying to pull away from the smell and taste of himself on Adam’s cock, and whines when Adam keeps him firmly in place, fingers pulling at the roots of Keith’s hair.

“Look at me, baby,” Adam commands. “I need to see your eyes. _Look_ at me.”

Keith reluctantly does, his dark eyes slowly turning upwards from under his long, watery eyelashes. His face is flushed red and his pupils blown wide and hazy, the corners of his eyes softened to a helpless beg as he looks up at Adam for mercy with his mouth wide open, obediently awaiting his reward.

Adam groans low and long at the sight of him, jerks himself even faster into Keith’s mouth with wet, sloppy noises as the tip of his cock bounces between Keith’s lips, just inside the soft warmth. He shuts his eyes as they start to roll back in his head, moaning as he climbs impossibly higher and higher. It’s the thrill of power, the feeling of having total control and domination over someone else that has his head spinning even more than the building of his orgasm. It’s a rush, completely addictive and exhilarating. He clenches his teeth, holding back as long as possible, squeezing out just a couple more blissful seconds of this moment as his head races with _Keith, Keith, wounded and fluttering in his iron grip, little dove unable to fly free,_ and then his body screams and snaps as his mind goes blank of every thought he’s ever had. 

He all but whimpers with the force of the orgasm rushing through him, his cock pumping semen right to the back of Keith’s throat like he’s receiving sacrament. He moans breathlessly, working himself until every last drop is delivered to Keith’s open mouth. Keith whines as it fills him up, the bitter taste and thick, oily texture a sensation he’s yet to get used to. Adam releases his grip on Keith’s hair and drops his hand to Keith’s mouth, keeping him open as he collapses onto the bed, shaking as he rides out that incredible high.

Keith’s eyelids flutter open and shut again as Adam drags him over, still panting as he admires the beautiful pool of come in his mouth. He presses two fingers against Keith’s tongue and glides them down towards the back of his throat, dips at the warm liquid and groans appreciatively under ragged breath. Keeping him open wide, he reaches down with one hand and finds his comm in the pocket of his pants, strewn on the floor.

He captures the scene in still photography like it’s a work of art, then switches to the record function, shaking Keith’s head around a little to slosh the come in his mouth, show off how much there is. Keith breathes hard through his nose, whimpering and gagging as Adam fingers his throat again. He opens one eye cautiously, reluctantly, to meet Adam’s. He knows what he has to do, he just doesn’t want to do it.

Adam pushes down on the back of Keith’s tongue to force his throat open, and Keith chokes with a splutter. “Swallow,” Adam commands, holding him still and settling him with a heavy and domineering look. Keith squirms and tries to get away, but Adam won’t let him. “Swallow,” he repeats, and Keith squeezes his eyes shut in resignation. It’s hard to do so with his jaw still stretched wide open, Adam’s heavy fingers holding down his tongue, but Adam watches him try, watches the bob of his throat as the come slides messily down it, into the pink and dark of his body.

Adam smiles, satisfied with his little film, and finally releases him. Keith drops to the bed and pants for breath with a nasally cough.

He gathers Keith up in his arms and fixes the pillows for them, lays the boy down and cradles him against his chest. He smiles, kissing his hair and temples as Keith groans and pants for breath. He feels like he’s floating, never felt lighter in his life, never felt more complete. There’s not a trace of anger left in him, and he doesn’t even want to think about Shiro or any of his other problems. All he wants right now he has here in his arms.

“I can stay tonight,” he murmurs, and he realizes that losing that fight was a gift, an opportunity he just didn’t see at the time. He smiles into Keith's hair, slides his hands around Keith’s frame and squeezes his nipples, lays open lips to Keith’s neck as one hand keeps sliding down Keith’s slender body to find his cock.

Keith gasps weakly when Adam encircles it. He looks absolutely exhausted but he still hasn't ejaculated, and Adam would hate to leave him like that when he's been so good tonight.

“You wanna come properly now?” he asks, and Keith whimpers as his hand starts to rub him up and down, his head tilted back and leaning on Adam's shoulder, breathing warm into Adam’s neck.

“Hmm?” Adam prods with a smile, tilting Keith's jaw to be able to kiss him, and Keith nods.

Adam goes slow and gentle, jerking him slowly towards climax with a tender tongue lavishing Keith's mouth, a fond hand tracing his nipples, stroking his hair back. He fills the boy up with praise, patching up all the pieces of him he broke, replacing bits of Keith with himself. “Such a good boy, you make me so happy, Keith. You're so good. You're so perfect, baby.”

Keith squirms in his arms and slides his own hand back between his legs, slips two fingers inside himself and works them slowly in and out of his body. Adam hums as he watches the boy bring himself to orgasm again, his breath quickening, his heart pumping hard, and then with a groan and a final quiver through his whole body, he comes one final time.

Adam feels his cock pulse with ejaculation and Keith moans as the come pours out of him, more by far than Adam's ever seen from the kid. He gives a weary, happy moan as Keith writhes with each pulse of his dick. Some of it shoots so far that it reaches his face, and Adam leans down to lick it away, kissing Keith’s mouth after to share the taste.

Adam pulls away to look at him, his face red and glowing with orgasm, eyes shut with pure exhaustion, still shaking as he comes down. He's so beautiful, so good and obedient and just everything Adam wants, everything he could ever need. He draws Keith up to him and rolls him so his back and ass are pressed against Adam's front, spooning him in against the wall as he nuzzles his nose into Keith’s warm neck, inhaling a healing lungful of him and kissing his clammy skin.

“I love you,” he says with a warm smile, settling in close and getting comfortable as his body starts to wind down for sleep. Keith says nothing, but he doesn't expect him to. He knows he doesn't really mean it, not in the way most people would, but right now, with Keith fucked out and shaking in his arms while Adam still buzzes from the best sex in his life, it feels like it might as well be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/theodoramyhoney/) as always~~
> 
> Edit: Please know I am smashing that mf like button on all of your comments in my heart


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > His mind keeps drifting back to Shiro, pulled towards him inexorably. Shiro’s sick. Shiro’s leaving in less than two weeks. Shiro’s broken up with Adam. Shiro’s all alone tonight.
>> 
>> He wants to see him, wants so badly to turn towards Shiro’s quarters instead of back to his own where a monster lays in his bed. 
> 
> Desperate to escape Adam and comfort his friend, Keith takes a risk that pays off. 

He’s here in Keith's bed again; warm, cloying breath on the back of his neck, a heavy arm around his waist, legs tangled in his own to keep him chained. Keith’s trapped between him and the wall, a prisoner in his own bed. He takes up so much of the small, single mattress that there’s no room for Keith to turn around, but at least this way they’re not face-to-face.

He’s tired, but he can’t sleep tonight. Some nights it’s easier, when Adam wears him out more, pushes his body to its limits so it has no choice but to shut down and try to recover, but tonight he was different. Slower. Almost gentle in the way he pushed Keith down to his knees, fingered through his hair as he slid in and out of Keith’s mouth with his eyes fallen shut and lips parted, lost in his own head instead of trying to claw into Keith’s. He had lifted Keith up in his arms and held him against the wall, pushed inside him and fucked him slow and hard, grunting into Keith’s neck with each thrust, murmuring words Keith couldn’t catch into his mouth.

He had braced himself for the opposite after learning about the break-up that afternoon, braced himself for the brunt of Adam’s anger again. But it didn’t come, and Keith doesn’t really understand it. He's given up trying: Adam's moods are unpredictable, and trying to make sense of them only makes Keith feel worse. He just hopes Adam hasn't already taken everything out on Shiro.

 _Does he ever hurt you?,_ Keith would sometimes wonder, looking at Shiro’s sad, distracted eyes. _Are you scared of him?_ A few months ago, Keith could have hardly believed that Shiro could be scared of anything. But he’s learned a lot since then.

At least he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. He just hopes that Adam lets him go. Shiro deserves far, far better than him and maybe when he gets home he can find somebody better, someone who can look after him and treat him right. Not Keith, of course. He stamps down that little spark every time it tries to flare up in him again. He doesn’t need that kind of false hope.

He wonders how Shiro’s doing now, the first night of the official break up, although it’s been days since Adam slept in his own bed. He hopes he’s happy, maybe even out celebrating his freedom, but Keith doubts it. He had found him fixing up that old bike again, a project he hadn’t had time to work on in months with how busy he’s been. He remembers when he used to take Keith out there too, show him what he was doing and let Keith help him with the modifications. He always said doing something with his hands helped him think. Keith found him out there three days this week.

He curls into himself, untangling his legs from Adam’s and dragging his knees up to his chest. It hurts to think about Shiro like that. He’s worried about him, so worried, it feels like there’s an endless, rolling ocean of it in his stomach. Shiro’s sick, and Keith feels terrible. He should have known. He noticed the signs, the clues. He knew something was wrong. He was just stupidly naive enough to think it wouldn't be that serious.

He doesn’t even know _how_ serious - Shiro won’t tell him, and that’s not a good sign. But Shiro won’t let anything stop him from going on the mission, not Adam, not being sick, not even dying, if that’s what it’s coming to. Shiro’s so sure of himself. He’s ferociously stubborn when he believes in something, and he’ll never give it up for anything. Keith knows, because Shiro’s never given up on him, either. And so Keith just has to keep believing in him, and hope that going to Kerberos isn’t going to turn out to be a mistake, too.

Adam makes a grumbling noise behind Keith and draws him in closer, rubs himself up against Keith’s ass in his sleep. Keith can feel the stubble on his cheek as he nuzzles into the back of his neck. He’s gotten used to sharing a bed with the man already. It’s scary how fast he’s gotten used to things: the constant ache of his body, the broken, haunted sleep, the guilt and self-loathing that never leaves him alone. It's become normal now. So has the deep, suffocating sense of brokenness, and its familiarity is devastating. He thought he had escaped it when Shiro found him, when he finally felt happy and hopeful for the first time since his dad died. He feels foolish for thinking that now. He can’t escape it: it’s a part of him. It’s his nature.

But that’s just one thing Adam was right about. He’s broken, fucked up, fundamentally wrong as a person. Adam knows because Adam’s like that, too, and as much as he despises the man, he feels a sickening sort of connection to him for it. Even attachment. Adam knows his true self and still wants him around, and that’s something, Keith supposes. He’ll never be good enough for Shiro. Not with the way he is on the inside, not without hiding the truth. But at least he doesn’t have to bottle it all up completely. At least he doesn’t have to be all alone again.

His body has proven capable of things he didn’t even know were possible, and he’s grown resigned where he used to find himself repulsed. Adam knows better every time; he knows Keith better than he knows himself. So, he lets himself enjoy the sex - when Adam allows him, when Adam gives him no choice - lets the physicality of it wash him away temporarily, pull him under for just a while. It drowns his thoughts out, stops him from hurting so much. The physical pain is infinitely more tolerable than the emotional.

Some nights, Adam doesn’t come and Keith _wishes_ he would, and that’s something that took him a while to accept. He wants this, he really, truly does want this, because when he’s alone he spends the night desperate for a reprieve from his own head, digging fingernails into his skin, ripping the hair from his scalp. Sometimes he jerks off thinking about the horrific, dehumanizing pictures of himself that Adam shows him so proudly, telling Keith how beautiful he looks. He feels like pure scum afterwards.

 _Takashi never let me do this,_ Adam praises him, as if he likes Keith’s perverseness so much better, and that's a small comfort, that Shiro at least was strong enough to not let this man ruin him completely. That Shiro managed to keep his dignity.

 _Shiro._ Keith aches anew at the thought of him, and suddenly he needs to get away, get out of this claustrophobic room that smells thick with sweat and sex, escape from under Adam’s oppressive weight.

He slowly, carefully wriggles out of the man’s grip, sits up as softly as he can, but Adam grumbles with the cold air left in Keith’s place and reaches out, grabs Keith by the arm and pulls him back down.

“C’mere…” he mumbles, feeling for Keith’s lips with his own in the dark. Keith lets himself be kissed, keeps him happy until Adam relaxes back into sleep.

“Bathroom,” Keith whispers, and Adam nods his head and rolls over as Keith climbs over him, feeling around for his shirt and underwear on the floor.

That part isn't a lie - Keith does head for the bathroom. The harsh, white light is momentarily blinding but he’s mostly awake anyway. He relieves himself and then stares blankly at his reflection in the mirror as he washes his hands. At the moment he feels nothing at all towards what he sees. It’s like it’s not even himself he’s looking at - the thinning cheeks and dull, darkly ringed eyes, lifeless hair and sallow complexion - he doesn’t recognize it, feels nothing towards it. And that's good at least. It’s better than the usual self-loathing he feels.

Shiro. His mind keeps drifting back to Shiro, pulled towards him inexorably. Shiro’s sick. Shiro’s leaving in less than two weeks. Shiro’s broken up with Adam. Shiro’s all alone tonight.

He wants to see him, wants so badly to turn towards Shiro’s quarters instead of back to his own where a monster lays in his bed. But what right has he to that? What right has he to Shiro’s time and attention when he’s still got scraped knees from the act he just performed on Shiro’s boyfriend? Still wet from the come in his ass?

Ex. Ex-boyfriend now. They’re no longer together, and Keith tries to reason with himself that it doesn’t make a difference. Shiro still won’t want him any more then he ever has, which is not at all. Shiro sees him as a child. As a little brother. A friend at the very most.

But despite all that, maybe there’s a chance Shiro would want to see him anyway. Keith could comfort him for a while, as his friend, and even though Keith doesn’t deserve it, maybe he could be of some help to him anyway.

His legs find his way there while he’s still justifying it to himself, and he arrives outside the door with a nervous gulp. He stands there a good five, ten seconds, almost swaying on his feet with how nervous he is, and he’s sure he’s going to pussy out when a last-ditch bit of courage bursts through him and his knuckles rap at the door, _one two three._ He holds his breath and waits as the door slides open.

Shiro’s stripped down to his white sleeveless undershirt, exposing the muscles of his arms and shoulders and clinging so tight to his torso there’s barely anything left for the imagination. He’s a little wobbly on his feet, his eyes a little unfocused as they look at Keith with a series of emotions - hope, disappointment, confusion, relief. “Keith?” he says, and Keith can hear the way he’s been crying, see the redness around his eyes, still a little wet. Keith’s heart breaks - he’s never seen Shiro cry before and it makes him almost start up himself.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” Shiro asks, a slight slur to the edges of his words. “What’s the time?”

“I don’t know,” Keith admits. “It’s late, but I couldn’t sleep. I just... had this feeling that maybe you couldn’t either.” he pauses nervously, but Shiro just looks at him with a soft, sad look. Keith fills the silence. “Do you… want company?”

He braces himself for the inevitable rejection, but to his surprise Shiro sighs with a little smile, his eyebrows softening. “Yeah, actually. That’d be nice.”

Keith follows after him breathlessly, swallowing down his nerves. Shiro sits at the dinner table and Keith sits across from him, watches him pour himself a glass of that same amber alcohol he's seen before. Adam’s, Keith guesses. He’s never known Shiro to be a big drinker.

It feels strange, being back in this room. He’d been avoiding it ever since that night of his first mistake. Something about it seems to be weighing down on him, watching him closely, like it knows what he did. He hugs his knees up to his chest nervously.

“You look cold,” Shiro says as he hands Keith his jacket, hanging over the back of one of the chairs. Keith opens his mouth to insist that he’s fine but then thinks better of it. Shiro’s jacket dwarfs him when he slips his arms into the sleeves, but it’s warm and comforting and smells like Shiro. He wraps it around himself tight.

“Sorry about all… this,” Shiro says, gesturing in front of him at the half-empty bottle of alcohol, a scattering of chocolate wrappers, damp, scrunched up tissues in a pile in the corner. There's an old shoebox with a stack of photos inside, a handful of trinkets and mementos collected over the years. Little handwritten notes. Keith tries not to look at it too much. It seems so private, so intimate, displayed in front of him like something naked.

“It’s okay,” Keith says, trying to keep his attention on Shiro. “How’re you feeling?”

Shiro gives a self-pitying smile and slumps his shoulders. “Pretty miserable, if I’m being honest.”

Keith says nothing, awkward, unsure what he _should_ say, he’s had no practice with this, but Shiro takes it as a cue to keep talking.

“Four years, just… gone. It hurts, you know. Even though I saw it coming, it still hurts.” He takes a drink from his glass, swallows it down slowly.

“What do you mean you saw it coming?” Keith asks.

Shiro sighs, rolls his lips between his teeth thoughtfully. “We’ve been pretty unhappy for… I don’t know, the last two years? Two and a half? It feels like longer.” He pauses, considering, taking another sip. “He’s -- he’s got issues. Like, anger problems, self-control. He’s good at hiding it in public, but deep down there’s like this... subconscious drive to self-destruct and take everyone down with him. I’ve tried to help him with it, but I don’t think he wants help. He just gets angry when I bring it up.” Shiro sniffs and shrugs his shoulders. “And now it’s gotten in the way of our relationship. Am I surprised? No. Am I disappointed though? Am I hurt that he just let his shit come between us and didn’t try to work it out? Yes, of course.” He gulps down the last of his glass, running his fingers through his hair. “Maybe it's for the best. This was a long time coming, really. He's vindictive, and narcissistic, and a control freak, and completely apathetic towards me until I’m doing something he doesn’t like, and then suddenly I’m the problem. Sometimes I think he starts fights just because he’s bored.” He frowns, reliving the frustration, but his expression drops back to a sad look after a moment. “But despite all that, I guess I was still holding out hope that somewhere deep down he really did care.” 

He takes a deep breath and sighs, looking at Keith exhausted and apologetic. “Sorry, I guess I needed to get that off my chest. Don’t tell anybody I said all that.”

“It’s okay,” Keith says, swallowing nervously. His heart’s beating hard, and he isn’t quite sure why. He can’t put a name to the feeling, but something about hearing Shiro vocalize this about Adam makes him overcome with a strange sort of fear. Shiro’s hitting him too close to home _._

“I know it sounds bad,” Shiro continues. “You must think I’m crazy. There was a lot of love too, though. It’s hard to just let four years of your life go, you know? We were partners in every sense of the word.” He pauses, pours himself another drink. He’s slurring a little more now, although he’s still coherent. Keith wonders if he should suggest he stop drinking, but maybe Shiro needs this right now.

“And I hate being alone,” he continues with a sad, self-deprecated smile. “I know, I know how bad that is. But I think that’s why it’s so hard to let go - I put all that time and effort into this hoping that if I could help Adam with his own shit then he would be there for me… at the end.” He swallows, rubbing a thumb over one temple. “Maybe that makes me the selfish one,” he admits.

He looks at Keith, looks in his eyes for a long time, and Keith just looks back, unable to say a thing.

“Thanks for letting me vent,” Shiro says, smiling at him. “It’s weird, I feel this relief, like - _it’s okay, it’s over, you tried your best and he walked away. It’s not your fault._ But I’m still here getting drunk and crying and hoping he’ll come home. It’s pathetic.” He shakes his head, smiling at Keith again. “I’m glad it was you who showed up, though.”

Keith feels himself blush. _He’s just drunk,_ he thinks. _Don’t read too much into it._

Shiro sighs. “You know what the worst part is?” he says quietly. “I’m scared he’s right. What if I regret it? What if -- what if it’s not worth it and I lose all that time, and everything I have here?” He looks at Keith with sincerity. “You never told me what you think I should do. Should I go?”

Keith pauses, swallows in a stall for time. _No,_ his gut screams. _Don’t go, please don’t go and leave me here without you. I need you. I love you._ But he bites it all back, because it’s not what Shiro needs to hear.

“I think you should do what you feel is right,” he says slowly. “You taught me that you shouldn’t let fear of what might go wrong hold you back.” He pauses, swallows a nervous lump in his throat. “I know it’s not the same, but - if it helps - I’ll be here waiting for you when you come back.”

Shiro smiles weakly at him, looking at Keith fondly. His eyelashes are still wet and his cheeks red from the crying and the alcohol and he looks so beautiful that it leaves Keith breathless. A wave of pure love for Shiro swells in his heart, so intense it physically hurts.

“Thank you, Keith. You don’t know how much that means to me,” Shiro says. He sniffs, finds a clean tissue and rubs his nose with it.

“You -- you mean a lot to me too, Shiro,” Keith says. “And I really mean it, you know. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what, even if you’re sick, or --” He pauses, not letting himself speak the word _dying_ out loud. “No matter what. I’ll be there, if you want me to. So… you don’t have to be afraid, okay?”

Shiro’s eyes tremble for a moment, but he looks Keith in the eye with a soft, tender look, swallowing before speaking. “Keith, I… I can’t ask you to do that. You’re so young, you don’t know what it’s like. Nursing someone, watching them die slowly and painfully, it’s… soul-destroying. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Least of all you.”

“You don’t have to ask me,” Keith insists. “I want to be there for you. I want to spend every moment I can with you, Shiro, no matter what.”

Shiro looks at him sadly. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” he says. “But you don’t understand yet. You don’t know how difficult it is.”

“Maybe not, but even when I do understand, I promise I’ll still feel the same.” Keith looks him in the eyes, hopes that he's properly conveyed just how serious he is.

Shiro looks at him, bottom lip twitching in a sad smile, and he opens his mouth to speak when suddenly tears well in his eyes. He hides his face in his hand, shudders with a barely-repressed sob. Keith stands and hurries around the table to sit beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Shiro?”

Shiro falls against him, crying onto Keith's shoulder and wrapping arms around him tight. Keith’s a little shocked at first, but he wraps his arms around Shiro and rubs his back, lets him cry and selfishly soaks up the moment. Shiro smells faintly like coffee and coconut shampoo, his body is warm and heavy but it’s comforting, makes him feel safe. It feels good, being the one helping Shiro for once. Shiro’s opened up to him more tonight than ever before, and this vulnerable side of him only makes Keith love him more. He lets himself pretend for a moment that he’s actually worthy of this.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispers as he sniffs his tears up. He’s still leaning on Keith’s shoulder, his weight starting to slump with the alcohol in his system. “I’m so sorry Keith. I don’t deserve you.”

“Hey, don't say that,” Keith says. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything.”

Shiro mumbles something against Keith’s neck, and he shivers as his breath and the deep vibration of his voice tickle his skin.

“What was that?” Keith whispers.

“Mm, nothing,” Shiro says. “Sorry, I think I’m pretty drunk.” He sits up and takes his weight off Keith but remains near, his head low near Keith’s own. His fingertips trail down Keith’s arms and find his hands, holding them both in his own, his thumbs running softly over Keith’s palms. Keith’s breath catches in his throat, his heart starting to beat rapidly. He’s too nervous to look up and see the expression on Shiro’s face.

“You… you don’t have to say yes,” Shiro says in a low voice. “But… do you want to stay here tonight? I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Keith’s brain tries to grind to a halt but he reasons with himself. It can’t mean what the stupidly hopeful part of him wants it to mean. He squeezes Shiro’s hands, thinking of Adam back in his room, thinking of the injustice he’s doing to Shiro with all his lies, thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Despite it all, this just isn’t something he’s capable of turning down. Especially not when Shiro needs him. “Yeah, yeah of course,” he says, looking up at his grey eyes. “Anything.”

“Okay,” Shiro smiles, relieved. “Cool. Um, Thanks.”

Keith fiddles nervously with his own hands once Shiro lets them go, getting a tissue to wipe his eyes and blow his nose. He looks miserable and exhausted. “I wanna go to bed,” he confesses with a weak laugh.

Keith helps him to his feet and follows him nervously to the bedroom at the back of the room. He tries not to stare as Shiro undresses, stumbling over the leg of his pants as he tries to get them off. Keith looks around the room. He's only been in here once before, but he's trying his best not to think about that time. _Just be here for Shiro,_ he thinks. _That’s the only reason you’re here. To help him. Forget about yourself for once._

Shiro flops down onto the bed, closing his eyes as soon as his head hits the pillow. Keith cautiously lays Shiro’s jacket on a chest of drawers and climbs in next to him, rests his head on the other pillow - Adam’s pillow, but he ignores that thought too. He pulls the blankets up over the both of them.

“Lights are on your side,” Shiro mumbles, and Keith reaches out for the switch. With the press of a button the room goes dark, the only light coming from the moon outside the window above their heads.

Keith settles back down, conscious to keep space between himself and Shiro, but Shiro shuffles up to him anyway, finds one of his hands in the dark and holds it between them. Keith swallows and tries to control the beating of his heart in case Shiro can feel his pulse.

They’re close enough that Keith can feel the warmth radiate off of his body, hear the rise and fall of his breath, and he closes his eyes and just rests for a moment, allows himself to listen, to commit to memory the shape of Shiro’s hand in his. He wonders if Shiro fell asleep already. He doesn’t mind; he’s lucky enough to just be allowed the privilege of sharing his bed.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs after a few minutes. “Are you still awake?”

“Yeah,” Keith whispers. “I thought you weren’t.”

There’s a long pause before Shiro speaks again. “I know you’re taking it hard,” he says. “You’ve been so quiet and sad since I told you I’m leaving. I’m really sorry.”

Keith hesitates before answering. “Yeah. I’m really gonna miss you,” he says. It’s not a lie, at least. “It - it’s okay, though. I’ll be okay.”

Shiro slowly links their hands together, fingers intertwined, and Keith’s heart picks up again, his nerves trembling like jelly in his guts.

“Keith, do you… do you have feelings for me?” Shiro asks.

Keith can’t say anything. He nods his head breathlessly before realizing that Shiro probably can’t see him. “Yeah,” he croaks.

Shiro exhales, pauses. “I’m really sorry,” he says, palpable emotion in his voice. “I don’t want to leave you here.” There’s a silence, Keith too terrified to say anything at all, and Shiro continues. “You know, out of everything, I think leaving you behind is the hardest part.”

Keith would cry if he weren’t completely frozen up. His chest aches and twists painfully. Shiro can’t just say things like that. It’s unfair. It hurts too much. He wants to ask Shiro what he means, if that’s a rejection or not, but he’s too afraid to find out. Tears he doesn’t know what to do with threaten to break at his eyes, and he makes a little, involuntary whimper in his throat as he fights to keep them down.

Shiro wraps an arm around Keith and pulls him in, the two of them embracing as Keith tries to pull himself together, face hidden down by Shiro’s chest. Keith hears Shiro sniffing too and he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

Moments pass in silence, the two of them sharing their warmth and breath. Keith is pressed up so close to Shiro he can feel his heart beating, just as hard and fast as his own. He feels Shiro nuzzle into his hair.

“It’s been a long time since I was just held by someone,” Shiro murmurs.

“Yeah, me too,” Keith says.

“It’s nice,” Shiro says, bumping one knee against Keith’s leg as he shifts, rubbing a hand on Keith's back. “Thank you, Keith.”

Shiro’s hand keeps moving in slow circles as a tense silence fills the air. _Is he waiting for me to say something?_ Keith wonders. _Does he want me to offer?_ He can’t tell if he’s reading this right or if he’s tricked himself with false hope. It seems unfathomable that Shiro could want him in the same way Keith does, but right now it seems more possible than ever.

“You know, I can, um, I can help you in any way you want.” Keith stammers.

The most painful silence of his life follows. Shiro’s hand keeps rubbing at his back, but he says nothing, and Keith starts to doubt if he even heard him. Maybe he should repeat himself, but he’s lost the nerve.

Eventually, Shiro speaks. His voice is low and soft. “You don’t know what you’re offering, Keith.”

It’s not a no, and Keith’s hope flares up just a little. “Yes I do. I’ve -- I’m not a virgin, you know.” His heart hammers at how dangerously close he’s skirting to the truth.

“You’re not?” Shiro asks, surprised. “Who -- wait, you don't have to answer that. Are you dating someone?”

Keith shakes his head. “It was a mistake,” he explains. “Somebody offered and I, I don’t know, I guess I thought I’d never get any better. I shouldn’t have done it.” It’s the understatement of the century, and he’s disgusted in himself for even saying it.

“Keith - I didn’t know. I’m sorry. You could have told me,” Shiro says. He pulls back a little, enough so they can look each other in the eyes again.

 _No, I couldn’t have, I’m sorry,_ Keith thinks, but he just says, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Keith…”

Keith swallows, figuring with a burst of courage that he might as well take his shot properly since he's this far along. “I care about you so much, Shiro. You saved me and gave me a life again. You're incredible. You’re the best person I’ve ever met. Sometimes, I can’t tell if I want to be with you or if I want to _be_ you, but it’s so strong that it sometimes feels like I can’t hold it all inside. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I like you so much it feels like I’m gonna die.”

He looks at Shiro looking at him, just able to make out his soft features in the moonlight overhead. His eyes shine as he listens to Keith speak.

“I know you probably think it’s just a dumb crush,” Keith says. “But it’s not. I know it.”

Shiro slowly brings one hand to Keith’s face, strokes his hair back behind his ear. “I believe you,” he says, almost breathlessly. “Tell me, what do you like about me?”

Keith almost laughs at the question. “Everything,” he says, closing his eyes as a small smile crosses his face. His love for Shiro has been his rock, his point of rotation for years. He knows it better than anything. “You’re kind and brave and smart and funny and handsome and the most talented pilot alive, and for some reason I still haven’t figured out you seem to like having me around. You teach me things. You care about what I have to say. You’re patient and understanding and -- and you found this broken, scared kid and instead of ignoring him like everyone else did, you saw the good in him, you rescued him. That’s just who you are.” He opens his eyes, looks at Shiro to make sure he knows he's serious. “I don't know where I’d be without you, Shiro. I would follow you anywhere you want to lead me. I would do anything for you.”

His heart beats like rumbling thunder in the silence that follows. Shiro’s looking at him with an expression he can’t process; he can't bring himself to understand the delicate crease of his brows, the shine in his half-closed eyes and soft part of his lips. He’s motionless except for the thumb that rests on Keith’s cheek, brushing slowly down his face and towards his lips.

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, and hearing his name said like that on Shiro’s tongue almost makes him gasp. Shiro draws in closer and Keith can only watch him come helplessly, watch the way Shiro’s eyes drop to his mouth and then fall closed, the way his tongue sweeps over his dry lips instinctively, and then Shiro’s mouth is on his and it feels like everything else ceases to exist.

When he’s recovered enough to be able to think again, Keith realizes he’s experiencing the best feeling of his entire life. Shiro tastes sweet and thick like honey, his tongue warm and heavy against Keith’s, his lips wet and rough with just a little bit of stubble as they slide over Keith’s own, slow but strong, leading Keith to follow along helplessly. Each kiss fills him up with something that feels golden and warm, something that heals him. He can't do anything except let Shiro have him, let his body react on instinct to chase out more of that bliss. It feels like touching heaven in Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro wraps an arm around Keith and draws him in close, a quiet moan escaping him and echoing around in Keith’s head. Keith can feel him hardening already as they press their bodies together, and he moans helplessly as Shiro grinds their hips, grips onto Shiro’s arm weakly as he slips a warm hand just under Keith’s shirt and smooths it over his bare skin. It feels unreal. Shiro wants him, he really, actually wants him, and Keith feels like he must be dreaming. He could spend years just doing this, nothing more than touching Shiro’s body with his, kissing his warm and wanting mouth.

For a long while that’s all they do, lost in the moment and each other, but eventually Shiro starts to increase the intensity of their kiss, exploring Keith deeper, spurred on by every moan and the desperate dig of fingers into Shiro’s skin. He breaks away only to kiss a path down Keith’s neck, breathing so loud and low it’s almost a growl. “Is this okay?” he asks, and Keith nods frantically.

 _“Yes,”_ he gasps, and he moans as Shiro rolls him over to his back, crawls on top of him and keeps kissing down his body, slowly pulling his shirt up.

“Can I take it off?” Shiro asks. Keith nods again, wriggling out of it and tugging on the edge of Shiro’s own shirt until it’s over his head and gone.

Keith's left breathless at the sight of him. He’s in awe at how beautiful Shiro is, how perfect every line of his body, the curve of each muscle, the sharpness of his hips and collarbone. Keith wants to worship him. He looks up at Shiro’s face and almost cries with the way Shiro’s looking at him, like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even with the way he’s covered in bruises and shame. He meets Keith’s eyes with a look of adoration and desire that pierces right through him, and Keith’s never felt so vulnerable. He pulls Shiro back towards him with his arms wrapped around his neck. _Don’t look at me that way,_ he thinks. _It’s too much. I can’t handle it._

Shiro kisses his mouth and it sweeps him away again. He runs his fingers through Shiro’s hair, down his undercut and at the back of his neck as Shiro kisses his way slowly down Keith’s body, down his neck and collar and chest, down his stomach and across to one of his hips. Keith gasps and writhes with each touch, culminating in a gentle hook of his fingertips under the elastic of Keith’s underwear.

“Keith…?” Shiro checks, and Keith moans and nods, helping to wriggle them off.

Shiro settles between his legs and brings his mouth back to Keith’s stomach, across the vee of his hips, kisses along the protruding hip bone and in towards his pelvis. Keith whimpers as Shiro brings his mouth towards his cock, twitching in anticipation. Adam’s never done this to him, never allowed him inside his mouth or any other part of his body, always taking, never giving. But Shiro’s not like that. Shiro does nothing but give.

When the press of wet, warm lips first touches him, he can’t help but cry out. Shiro slowly kisses a trail down Keith’s length, over his balls and back up again, and Keith moans as his erection strains, twitches desperately with each press of Shiro’s lips. He can’t believe how good it feels, how warm and soft and wet on that sensitive stretch of skin. He gasps as Shiro licks his lips and tongue right at the tip, licking filthy wet little brush strokes over the slit of his cock, before wrapping tight around the head and slowly sinking down it. He goes lower and lower, his tongue dancing over Keith’s shaft as his lips hold him tight. Keith gives a long moan. “S-Shiro…”

Shiro slides fingers underneath Keith’s hips, lifts him up and into the warmth of his mouth even further and cradles him there while his tongue keeps working. Keith gasps for breath as Shiro takes him all the way down. He feels his cock slide down the back of Shiro’s throat, soft and tight around him, and he groans as his whole body starts shaking.

Shiro moves up and down him, slow to start but steadily picking up speed. He wraps a big hand around the base of Keith’s cock and strokes it in time with his mouth, moaning as he pulls back to rub his lips over the head with a good helping of saliva.

“Shiro, oh, god,” Keith whines. Shiro’s free hand pushes his hips back down to the mattress, slides down one leg and lifts it up, hooking the back of Keith’s knee over his shoulder. He kisses softly down the inside of Keith’s thigh and back to his cock where his hand still strokes, taking over from it again. Keith gasps as Shiro sinks down on him in one slide, tongue painting him wet as Keith’s hips jerk up into his mouth, then drags back up him to do it again and again.

Keith moans, feeling so good he thinks he might burst, and when Shiro replaces his mouth with a firm, warm hand again, circling over the head of his cock with a wet squelch and gently mouthing over Keith’s balls, Keith feels orgasm start to build in him like the beginnings of a storm.

“Keith…” Shiro murmurs against his skin, his voice deep and rough.

“Shiro -- oh my god, I’m -- I’m gonna come,” Keith gasps.

Shiro brings his free hand to Keith’s where it’s tangled in the sheets, linking their fingers together and squeezing tight. “Can I have it?” he murmurs darkly.

Keith whines and forces his eyes open, just able to make out the hungry expression on Shiro’s face, captivated as he watches Keith hurry towards climax by his hand. He nods his head, words escaping him, and watches as Shiro smiles up at him, stroking firm and fast over his cock before bringing his mouth back to the tip of it.

Keith's grip on Shiro tightens as he moans. _It's really him,_ he thinks, reminding himself this is real as he watches Shiro work his body with an affectionate touch he's never known. It's more real than anything he's ever felt. He feels full and complete with it, swollen up like the ocean in a full moon, drawn powerlessly higher because that's where Shiro wants him. He groans helplessly, losing his breath, squeezes his eyes shut and squeezes Shiro's hand as the pressure builds and churns, and then with a gasp and a shudder through his whole body, it breaks. The waves roll through him and leave him breathless, moaning weakly and twitching as Shiro licks up and swallows everything Keith gives him.

He kisses his way back up Keith's body and Keith opens his eyes to look at him, panting and clinging weakly to his body. Shiro kisses his neck and back to his mouth, letting Keith taste himself on Shiro’s tongue when he opens his lips to accept it.

“Shiro…” he moans, still short of breath, heart still thrumming. He reaches for Shiro’s face just to touch him, feel his skin against his hands, and then pulls Shiro into an embrace to feel the beat of his heart against his own chest, the rise and fall of his lungs. It’s perfect, and he can barely remember that anything outside of this exists. He wants to stay here forever.

Shiro nuzzles against his hair, chuckling under his breath. “Good?” he teases.

“Mm-hm,” is all Keith manages in response, nodding. Shiro hums and rubs against him, rubs his hard cock against Keith’s leg needily, and Keith gives a happy sigh as he feels it. He reaches down, slowly slips his fingers under Shiro’s underwear and wraps his hand around it. He gasps a little under his breath. It’s huge, so big Keith can barely fit his slim fingers around it. The pictures Adam’s shown him can’t compare to the real thing.

“Woah,” he breathes, and Shiro gives a little embarrassed laugh, tilting Keith’s chin up to kiss him again. Keith moves his hand up and down his cock, thick and heavy and alive in his hand, and Shiro hums happily, rolls his hips slowly into Keith’s palm. His fingers trail lazily up and down Keith’s body and he kisses him with a slow slide of his mouth, gentle and tender as Keith lets the serenity of orgasm settle into him. It’s bliss. Shiro wants him, Shiro actually wants him. Shiro’s hard because of him. Shiro wants to be touched by him. Keith’s so overwhelmed he almost doesn’t know what to do with the feeling. Luckily, Shiro knows how to occupy him.

He slowly starts to kiss Keith deeper, sucking his tongue into his mouth, scraping over his bottom lip with his teeth. His hand finds Keith’s cock and it doesn’t take long to get him hard again, not when it’s Shiro touching him like that, like he’d rather have no one else in the entire world. He rolls Keith to his side and lines them up with each other, taking them both in one of his big hands and squeezing them together. Keith moans and adds his hand to the mix, wrapping around Shiro’s big one, letting him move them both. He can feel the wetness of precome leaking from the tip of Shiro’s cock, and he groans as Shiro moves his mouth to his neck, nibbling down his flesh, sucking new, fresh bruises over the old ones, wiping the canvas of Keith’s body clean with his touch.

“Shiro,” he whispers, wrapping an arm up around his back, tangling their legs together as Shiro works his hand over them both. He picks up the pace, pulling both of their underwear right down off their legs. Fuck, Shiro’s going to keep going until they both come. It feels so good, so fucking good, any touch from him does. But Keith wants more. He wants their bodies to become one tonight.

Shiro whispers his name and kisses his mouth again, and Keith gets swept away all over. Shiro’s tongue rolls over his in waves, filling Keith with more than he can contain. Shiro’s grace and perfection fill him up and spill out over the edges, seep through his cracks and seal them shut, wash him clean and leave him purified.

Surged on by a swell of devotion to the man, Keith pushes in closer, takes charge of the kiss, and Shiro moans low in his throat when he does. He concedes immediately, falling to Keith’s pace and making room for Keith’s tongue to explore his mouth. He rolls Keith on top of him, their legs criss-crossed, and their eyes meet for a breathless moment before Keith closes his lips on Shiro’s neck, kisses him down the line of muscle and across his throat to the other side. Shiro moans, still stroking the both of them, one hand flat on Keith’s back.

He finds Shiro’s mouth and kisses him again urgently, the both of them grinding their hips against one another on instinct as Shiro strokes them faster. Keith pulls reluctantly away from his mouth. “Do you have lube?” he whispers.

Shiro nods and reaches out to the bedside draw to find it, slowing down the frantic pace of their grinding. He turns back to Keith and cups his cheek in one palm, kisses him soft and slow. “Are you sure?” he murmurs, a little out of breath. “We don’t have to. This could be enough for me.”

Keith nods. “I want to. If -- if you do, of course.”

Shiro smiles against his mouth. “I want to,” he says in that dark, teasing tone that goes straight through Keith, sinks into his core. He kisses Keith again, popping the cap off the bottle with a click. “You wanna top?”

“Oh,” Keith says, realizing with a strange ache that he wasn’t expecting to be given the choice. “Do -- do you want me to?”

“Only if you do, of course,” Shiro murmurs with a kiss against Keith’s neck. “I don’t mind either way.”

Keith nods, swallows his nervousness. “I want to,” he says, and Shiro’s hand starts to travel downwards, slowly wraps around his cock with a palm full of lube. Keith moans as Shiro strokes him slowly, coating him with it. He could almost collapse with how good it feels.

Resting his weight on one elbow, he brings one hand down Shiro’s body, follows his arm all the way down to where his fingers disappear inside himself, getting ready for Keith. He gulps with nerves and eager anticipation, fingers resting just over Shiro’s knuckles, feeling his hand move. “Can I?” he asks breathlessly. Shiro nods and slips his fingers out, twists them around Keith’s to wipe the slick onto them before leading Keith’s hand to him.

Eyes falling shut, Keith pushes a finger inside. He gasps at how good it feels. Shiro’s body is warm and soft just like the rest of him, and he welcomes Keith inside with a happy moan, finding his lips again and kissing him deeply as Keith moves a finger in and out of him. He adds another, feeling around until he finds the right angle, pressing up into it to work a long moan of out Shiro that goes right through him, sends him to pieces. Shiro wraps his legs around Keith’s, spreading wide for him, inviting him in when he’s ready. Keith’s ready now, he’s been ready for years, but he keeps his fingers in Shiro a little longer, kisses his neck and down his chest to his nipples until Shiro’s groaning beneath him. The hand around Keith goes still as he forgets all else, and when he starts whispering Keith’s name like he’s begging, Keith decides he can’t wait any longer.

He kisses Shiro again, removing his fingers and letting Shiro line his cock up. With a deep breath, he pushes inside slowly, savoring every last second, every stretch of skin around him, every little moan from Shiro’s throat. He feels so good, silky soft and wet and warm and tight like heaven around him, and he whispers Shiro’s name with reverence as he pushes into him deeper. Shiro is a soft place to land after weeks of nothing but falling, and he slides inside him all the way like he’s finally home.

They both groan, and Keith wraps an arm around the back of Shiro’s neck, cradles him and kisses up every soft moan hidden beneath his shaky exhales. Shiro tangles his legs with Keith’s, holding him down and keeping their bodies locked together. He whispers Keith’s name, the word catching in his throat, and Keith fights back the tears in his eyes as he starts to move, to deliver unto Shiro everything that he wants.

He goes slow at first, overwhelmed by the rippling softness of Shiro’s body around him. He props up on his elbows, finding his rhythm, paying attention to the way Shiro rolls his hips to encourage him. It comes to him naturally once Shiro starts moaning, one hand finding its way back between their bodies to wrap around his cock. He finds one of Keith’s hands with the other, twists their fingers together.

“Keith,” he murmurs. “Keith, that feels so good.” Keith hopes he’s not just saying that, but the way he moans and moves beneath him doesn’t seem faked.

“Do you want me to go faster?” Keith asks, opening his eyes to look at him, all soft features and flushed cheeks.

“No,” Shiro whispers back. “No, this is perfect.”

Keith kisses him again and then lets himself get lost, dropping his head down to the crook of Shiro’s neck, holding around him tight as he moves in and out of him. Every movement, every collision of their bodies feels like something divine. Keith loses all sense of time, place, even his sense of self, just keeps moving inside of Shiro’s body like it’s all he’s ever done and all he ever will do. He can’t think of a better purpose in this world.

Shiro keeps stroking himself, his moaning noises growing louder and more desperate, his hips rocking down to meet Keith’s with a building desperation. Keith readjusts, sits up a little just so he can see Shiro’s face. He’s flushed and panting, and when he opens his eyes to look at Keith they’re pleading with him, overwhelmed but still begging for more.

Keith will to give it to him, give him anything he wants. He gently pushes Shiro’s legs back, hands underneath his knees, and Shiro groans and throws his head back as Keith rolls through him at a better angle. His pale body glows gorgeous in the moonlight. Keith runs a hand over it, the toned muscle and smooth, warm skin. He’s a work of art, the most beautiful sight Keith has ever seen.

He moves faster now, a little harder, chasing every moan that Shiro makes in ecstasy, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted with heavy, quickened breath as he jerks his hand over himself with increasing urgency. Keith looks at the place they intersect, watching himself push in and pull out of Shiro’s body, looking up to see the way he touches himself, and then looks up to his face, looking at him in awe. _I would follow you anywhere. I would do anything for you._ He remembers saying those words right before Shiro kissed him. He had never dared to let himself dream that Shiro would ask this of him, but Keith is honored, overcome with gratitude and love and devotion. He’ll give Shiro everything he wants, serve him like Shiro’s his king and he was meant for nothing else in this world but to worship at his feet, follow where he may lead, celebrate him in any way that Shiro might want him to.

“You’re so beautiful, Shiro,” he says. He hears the watery tremble in his own voice and realizes he’s been crying. “You’re so beautiful. I love you so much.”

Shiro opens his eyes and looks up at Keith with desire and wonder, brows drawn in towards each other like he’s moved by Keith’s confession. He leans up and kisses Keith with a messy, hot lick of his tongue before falling back to the pillow. “Oh, Keith,” he groans. “God, I’m gonna come.”

Keith pushes Shiro’s knees up higher, slipping in and out of him faster now as Shiro groans and squeezes his hand around himself desperately. Keith feels him tighten around his cock and he moans, so focused on Shiro’s pleasure he barely realized he’s nearing the cusp of orgasm himself. He keeps moving, keeps his eyes open and keeps watching Shiro as he gasps, jerks his hips uncontrollably, panting Keith’s name, and then with a twitch and a moan and a shake of his whole body, he comes all over himself.

Keith moans loudly, his eyes falling shut as he chases the last few thrusts that he needs. Shiro’s coming for him, Shiro’s calling his name as he comes; it’s so unreal but simultaneously somehow the most real, pure thing he’s ever experienced. He can feel Shiro climaxing and he swells with his own, building and roaring in him until he feels the contraction in his body and it all releases, rolls through him unstoppable. It’s wave after wave of golden, warm light that seems to engulf him entirely as he loses control of his body, falling back to something instinctual and animalistic. Everything else leaves him as if this is the only thing that matters, being here with Shiro, sharing his body, letting himself be cleansed and washed away by Shiro’s radiating goodness.

It leaves him shaking and breathless, collapsing on top of Shiro with an awed moan. He can hear Shiro’s heart beating like wild, feel the rapid in and out of his lungs as he whispers Keith’s name over and over, a one word prayer. Keith whimpers as tears stream down his face. He’s so thankful, so deeply in Shiro’s debt that he’ll never be able to pay him back. Shiro’s done so much for him, taught him so much, cared enough to share this moment with him, and Keith shakes with the newfound knowledge that the truth of the world is beauty, and he’s found it here in Shiro’s arms.

He weeps as everything else pours out of him, every feeling of joy and grief and shame he's ever held onto flushed from his deepest corners, and he lets it all go willingly, watches it pass like a flash flood of emotions.

“Hey,” Shiro says, still a little out of breath as he cups Keith's face gently, turns him to look at him. Keith tries to meet his eyes but he only cries more at the sight of him. “Hey, it’s okay,” Shiro whispers. “I’m here.”

“Sorry,” Keith sobs, burying his face in Shiro's neck. He tries to find the words to explain, make Shiro understand he's not hurt, he's not sad, it's the opposite, but all that comes out is an apology. “I'm sorry.”

Shiro shushes him gently, rubs his back and kisses his head until Keith's too drained to cry anymore. Eventually, he rolls Keith over and wipes them both down with tissues, then collapses next to Keith and wraps an arm around him.

“You okay?” he whispers, stroking the hair away from Keith's face.

“Yeah,” Keith replies, opening his eyes reluctantly, embarrassed, but Shiro is smiling at him so fondly that he can't help but smile back. “Sorry, I got kinda emotional,” he laughs with a little sniff. “But it was good. Really good. Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” Shiro says. He leans forward and kisses Keith's forehead softly, then settles down on his pillow, happy and relaxed. Keith watches him drift off to sleep already. He smiles and lets him. Shiro deserves the rest.

It’s bittersweet. He’s painfully conscious of the fact that Shiro’s leaving soon, will be quarantined even sooner, and given the inevitability of Adam squeezing the truth out of him when he wakes up alone in Keith’s bed, this is probably their one and only night together. He knows he’s lucky to have it at all, though. Shiro is here with him tonight, and he reckons he could stretch this happiness out to last him a lifetime.

 _Don’t fall asleep,_ he tells himself. _Don’t miss a moment of this._ It feels like maybe he could make the night last forever if he never has to wake up, but Shiro holds him tight and keeps him warm, and Keith feels so at ease that it’s impossible not to drift off with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/theodoramyhoney/) if ya wanna talk to me <3 <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > Keith looks up at him with wide, shaking eyes. “I’m -- I’m sorry,” he squeaks, and for some reason that’s what makes Adam furious.
>> 
>> He grabs Keith by the wrist and yanks him over to the opposite wall, slamming him against it. “You’re _sorry?”_ he hisses. “That’s all you have to say?” 
> 
> Adam teaches Keith a lesson on betrayal he won't soon forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long! It took me quite a while to tap into the right emotions, but I think I got there in the end. With that, please go into this chapter with caution, especially as this has now been tagged with graphic depictions of violence. Every chapter I post I'm like "ok this is as hard as I'm gonna go" and then I end up going harder, so... yeah. Maybe ignore what I said earlier about the consent issue not getting any worse, this is definitely not dubcon territory anymore. I've held back in some of the earlier chapters. I didn't hold back in this one. I'm so sorry to do this to Keith 😭

Adam wakes to a dark room and a cold, empty bed. He blinks his eyes open as his conscious mind quickly catches up to what he subconsciously figured out in his sleep. Keith is gone.

It must have been at least an hour, maybe two. He only has a vague recollection of Keith getting up before he fell into a deep sleep, and he growls under his breath at himself for letting this happen. He should have seen it coming. He knew he couldn’t trust Keith, not yet. The boy was bending well but he hadn't quite broken.

He rises, slowly and deliberately steps back into his clothes, smoothes down the wrinkles in his uniform, straightens his collar over his throat and slips his glasses back on. He checks the time on his comm. It’s early morning, another two hours until the most diligent officers will start to rise. That’s good. He has enough time to see this through to the end.

The fall of his boots echoes slow and loud down the empty corridors of the Garrison buildings, the sound bouncing off of the concrete walls, chasing up the walkway in front of him. He stops in at the nearby bathroom, just in case, but he’s not in the least surprised to find it empty. A cold, clinical anger flows through his veins, well contained for now. Adam holds it tight until he finds its target. And he knows exactly where that’s going to be.

It doesn’t take him long to get there and he knows the path like the back of his hand. He’s pleased to find his clearance card still has access. Of course it does. He’s keeping the apartment once Shiro leaves.

He switches the light to the dimmest setting and and looks around the room. There’s a bottle of his that Shiro’s put a good dent into, and he walks over and sips at the abandoned glass left on the table. Shiro’s been going through their keepsakes, he notices. How sentimental of him.

He picks up a handful of photos, ones that Shiro got printed a year ago. A half-hearted attempt at patching things up with some pretty decorations, a reminder of how happy they are. Shiro never got around to getting them framed.

Adam thumbs slowly through them. Concerts they went to together. Anniversary dates. A gala from a year back, the two of them newly commissioned and wearing their handsome half-dress uniforms. Shiro’s ribbons always outnumbering Adam’s, as if to spite him purposefully. There’s even a picture of them way back at their graduation, back before they got together. God, they looked so young. Shiro especially, all baby faced, dimples in his cheeks as he smiles wide and proud. The valedictorian. The scholarship kid success story. Came in like a storm and beat the Garrison’s records one after another, rose up on his own wings and worked his way to the top of the class on nothing but his own merits. The handsome face on all the posters. The Garrison’s golden boy, adored by the public and his colleagues alike. Adam remembers with disgust how much he wanted him back then. Shiro used to matter so much, seemed to matter more than anything. Back when Adam realized that he didn’t have to _surpass_ Shiro, an impossible feat anyway, because he could _have_ him.

It had become near obsession after that; the chase, the thrill of slowly but surely closing in on him, the satisfaction he felt during their first kiss, the victory when Shiro first lead him to his bed. Shiro hadn’t been hard to seduce but he still made Adam work for it, tested his patience and his cunning. Back then, Adam would have said he was in love. These days he knows himself better.

He drops the photos and turns towards the bedroom door with a sigh. He doesn’t want to do this, not really. There’s no pleasure in what he’s going to find in there. But Keith’s given him no choice. Adam can’t let him get away with it.

He slides the door open, and even knowing what he's going to find Adam still has to swallow down his rage when he sees it. They’re asleep, curled up together, legs tangled in the middle of the bed. Shiro’s got an arm draped over Keith’s waist, pushing the blanket down to reveal the bare skin of their bodies. It’s loving. Intimate. Adam does nothing but stare at them for a long time, sipping at his drink and allowing anger and disgust to build up inside him like he’s hungry for it. The two of them jumped into each other’s arms the moment Shiro was single. He never in his wildest dreams thought Shiro would sleep with an underage cadet, but maybe it was only Adam that Shiro reserved his high and mighty morality for. Once again, Keith proves the exception to every rule Shiro has.

His eyes flick resentfully to the boy, glaring holes into the back of his head. He thought he had a tighter hold on him, thought what he was doing would be enough. He thought the kid was smart enough to fear him. But of course, Shiro is his exception too. Adam’s going to have to demonstrate just what this mistake will cost him.

He fishes his comm out of his pocket and takes a photo of the scene. The flash doesn’t seem to wake either of them, though he almost wishes it did. He’s ready to fight now, looking for any excuse to start spitting the fire that's swelling inside of him. But Shiro’s always been a deep sleeper, especially when he’s been drinking. Adam can see his face from this angle, eyes shut peacefully and mouth hanging open in his sleep. He’s never felt more like strangling someone.

He goes back to the bottle of liquor on the other side of the room and takes two good mouthfuls, considering his options. He needs to calm down, see this an an opportunity and make the most of it, turn it around in his favor. It's not too late for that, he reminds himself, not at all, not when he has Shiro's future resting in a single photograph. That’s leverage he can work with.

The scuffle of soft feet on the plastic-wood flooring comes from behind him, and he turns to see Keith standing in the bedroom door. He’s hugging his body tight under Shiro’s jacket, eyes wide and staring at Adam with the most terrified look that Adam's ever seen. Good. Adam looks at him a long while, lets him torture himself imagining all the things he might do to him. He takes another slow sip of his drink and puts it down, slowly walks over and stands in front of Keith where he’s frozen in place. He leans over the boy to slide the bedroom door closed behind him.

Keith looks up at him with wide, shaking eyes. “I’m -- I’m sorry,” he squeaks, and for some reason that’s what makes Adam furious.

He grabs Keith by the wrist and yanks him over to the opposite wall, slamming him against it. “You’re _sorry?”_ he hisses. “That’s all you have to say?”

Keith just shakes silently, looking anxiously over Adam’s shoulder, and Adam realizes he’s more scared of Shiro finding out about their affair than he is of Adam. He’ll have to correct that.

“Did you really think you would get away with this?” he whispers, a hand heavy with threat closing around Keith’s throat. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“No, I -- I didn’t -- I thought --”

“You didn’t think at all,” Adam growls. “You stupid little _slut._ I thought you _didn’t_ want him find out you’re a whore.”

Keith just trembles with his eyes squeezed shut, one hand on Adam’s wrist, and Adam releases his grip with an angry sigh, takes a small step back as he gathers his temper back under control. He slides one hand under the gray jacket that Keith has wrapped tight around him, tugs until Keith reluctantly lets it fall open. He runs a hand over Keith’s naked body, sliding a palm around his hips to cup his ass.

“Did he fuck you?” Adam asks, checking to see how wet he is. Keith shakes his head. “No? You fucked him, did you?”

Keith nods, his head bowed low in shame as Adam violates his way into whatever happy memory he probably hoped he could keep for himself. Adam exhales, a little relieved even though he knows he shouldn’t be. But at least he doesn't have to dig come out of Keith's ass.

“Don’t think you’re special,” he says. “Takashi’s always been easy when he’s drunk.” He moves his hands over Keith’s body, inspecting him over as if looking for damage to his property. One hand trails up to Keith’s chest, fingering over the bruises he's sucked onto the skin in the nights before, then up to the dark ring of them around Keith's throat. “Did he see these?”

Keith shakes his head. “I don’t think so. It was dark.”

Adam sighs, rubbing his hand through his hair. By the looks of things, Shiro drank enough for the both of them. Hopefully he won’t have noticed all the little details. Adam got lucky there, but he doesn't like that. He shouldn't have to rely on luck. He should never have allowed this to happen in the first place. But it has, and now he needs to focus on making sure it never happens again.

“He’s going to regret it in the morning, you know,” he says.

Keith swallows silently, his eyes downcast.

Adam cups a palm around Keith’s face, stroking it softly as he digs his hooks back in. “Don't get all heartbroken over a drunken rebound, Keith. He's leaving. Don't forget that.” He pauses, but Keith has nothing to say in his defense. “Come on, let's go.”

He pulls on the back of Keith’s neck to lead him away, but the boy hesitates. “He asked me to stay,” he mumbles when Adam turns to look at him.

“What?”

Keith lifts his eyes to meet Adam’s with terrified defiance. “I want to stay.”

The nerve of this boy. Filled with another sudden flash of rage, Adam steps back into Keith’s space and grabs his throat, slams his head back against the wall with a painful thud while covering his mouth to muffle his cry. “Don’t mistake my restraint for forgiveness,” he whispers into Keith’s ear. “I'm only just getting started with you, so unless you want to wake him up with your pathetic sniveling as I teach you your lesson here, I think you'd better come with me.” He feels Keith trembling beneath him, whimpering into Adam’s palm, and Adam figures he got the messages. He slowly releases him. “We’re leaving. Now. Go get your clothes.”

Keith stumbles into the bedroom, and Adam watches from the door as he slips out of Shiro’s jacket with a sniffle, picks his shirt and underwear up off the floor and pulls them over his body. But then he pauses with his head bowed low, and instead of walking towards Adam, he kneels next to the bed, reaches out and takes one of Shiro’s hands in both of his, presses his forehead into the mattress. A prayer or an apology, Adam’s not sure which.

With an impatient sigh, he steps over the threshold and into the dark room. He stands over Keith and grabs him by the shoulder, silently pulls him back to his feet. He looks at Shiro as he does it, looks at his relaxed, sleeping face with cold contempt, but then his frown turns into a smirk. Shiro may have won Keith temporarily, but Adam’s taking him back, for good this time.

He leads the sniffling boy away, shuts the door behind them and gets the lights on his way out of the apartment. His fingers dig tight into Keith’s shoulder as they walk, half expecting him to run away.

Keith sniffs up the last of his tears, tripping over his feet a little as he tries to match Adam's pace. After a few moments, he composes himself enough to talk. “What are you going to do?”

He’s not scared, at least, not as much as he should be. The tone of his voice is too flat and resigned, resentful more than anything else.

Adam smiles sardonically. “You’ll find out,” he says, gripping fingernails down into Keith’s skin.

“To _Shiro,_ I mean,” Keith says. He takes Adam’s silence as a cue to keep talking. “Are you going to report him? You took a photo. I saw.”

Adam growls under his breath. “So what?”

“Delete it,” Keith says, and Adam huffs and ignores him. “Hey, I mean it,” Keith says again, a little braver, his voice rising insistently. “Leave him alone. Delete it.”

Adam stops and swings Keith around to face him, bearing down on him with a strong hand on each shoulder. “You don’t get to make demands here, kid,” he snarls.

“Delete it,” Keith says again. There are tears in his eyes but he’s looking at Adam like something fierce, with a fiery determination that sparks only when it comes to Shiro. “I don’t care what you do to me, but I won’t let you get Shiro in trouble.”

Adam stares at him furiously. “You’d better remember your place here,” he says. “Or you’re going to get yourself in even more shit than you already are.”

Keith swallows nervously but he doesn’t back down. “If you get him taken off the mission, I’ll tell everyone what we’ve been doing. I’ll tell them what you do to me.”

Adam’s brows snap together, and he bares his teeth at Keith in contempt. “Don’t be an idiot,” he growls. “What good would that do? You’d only get yourself expelled and make him hate you.”

“I don’t care what happens to me,” Keith says, his voice rising to a near shout, reverberating around the quiet hallways. He tries to shake free of Adam's grip but Adam grips down on him tight. “I mean it. If you ruin his life, I’ll ruin yours.”

Adam glares at him with barely contained fury, digging his fingers painfully hard into Keith’s shoulders. “What, are you going to say that I raped you?” he hisses. “You lying little piece of shit. Don’t you _dare_ try to threaten me. I promise you you’ll regret it.”

Keith just stares up at him, chin wobbling but refusing to back down. “Delete the picture.”

Adam snarls, slamming Keith against the wall with force that makes Keith’s head swing back, cracking against the concrete, but Adam’s too angry to care. He shakes him by the shoulders, anger rising in his chest as he loses control of himself, giving in to Keith's childish provocation, but just as he raises his hand back to put a proper end to this, he’s interrupted by the distinct sound of footsteps down the corridor.

Adam whips his head around, swearing under his breath. He grabs Keith by the arm and drags him in away, but it's too late. His hand drops to his side in feigned nonchalance. “Be smart about this,” he hisses between his teeth, so Keith can only just hear him.

He breathes a sigh of relief when their intruder steps around the corner. It’s not Shiro - in fact, it's no one important at all. Just a petty officer no more than a couple of years older than Keith, freshly striped and baby faced as he looks in surprise between the two of them.

“Oh, um, Lieutenant,” the kid says, saluting Adam. “My apologies. I heard a noise and thought it might be cadets out of their dorm.” He looks over at Keith, with his face downturned and hidden behind his dark hair, hands fidgeting nervously in his shirt. “Is… everything okay?”

Adam puts on his most reassuring smile and steps in front of Keith as the young officer comes closer. “We're fine, thank you. I just found this cadet trying to sneak outside, but the situation is under control. I’m returning him to his room now.”

The officer’s eyes linger on Keith behind Adam’s frame, frowning at the bare skin of his thighs, the way he shuffles nervously behind Adam. “I didn’t know this block was in use for cadet housing,” he says. “Shouldn’t his sergeant deal with this? Protocol requires us to report every --”

Adam takes another step forward, standing tall to make use of the height he has over the other man. “I have this under control,” he repeats, his voice taking on a dangerous, low tone. When the officer takes a step back and falls silent, Adam gives him a shallow smile. “It’s the middle of the night,” he explains. “It’s not worth waking his sergeant for this. I’ll file a report in the morning.”

“Of -- of course,” the kid stammers, looking up at Adam with a hint of fear and reluctant understanding in the crease of his brows. He swallows as Adam stares down at him, flicks his gaze back towards Keith with poorly-hidden concern.

“What’s your name?” Adam asks him, his eyes narrowing at the man.

“Oh, it’s, um, Harper, sir. Corporal Harper.” He continues to stare at Keith like he’s seen a ghost, then swallows nervously before looking back at Adam. “I -- I can return the cadet to his room if you’d like, sir. It’s -- it wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

Adam smiles coldly at him, indignant rage filling up the space behind his eyes. Tense silence fills the air for a moment, but Adam composes himself with a swallow. “Thank you, Corporal. I appreciate your offer of help, but like I've said, I have this under control.” He licks his lips, jaw tight as he stares the kid down. “I think you’d better return to your own room now, hm? I would hate to have to file an insubordination report as well. I'm sure you don't need anything like that getting in the way of your career.” The tone of his voice is forcefully light, but Adam can tell by the wide-eyed look that crosses the kid's face that he understands the threat.

“Y-yes, sorry sir,” he stammers, and with one last lingering look at Keith, he turns and hurries back the way he came.

Adam watches him go, listens to the fading fall of his footsteps until they’re gone before he lets out his breath. He turns back to Keith. The boy is rubbing the back of his head where it hit the wall, and when he pulls his hand away there’s a red smear over his palm.

Adam hates the sight of blood, but he conceals his disgust. “You’re lucky that’s all you got,” he says. He places a hand on Keith’s cheek, tilts his face up towards him and holds him there until Keith looks up and meets his eyes with a teary attempt at a glare. He looks shaken, by the injury and the unexpected appearance of this officer, but he has no one to blame but himself. Adam has no sympathy for him. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere we can sort this out in private.”

Keith isn’t expecting it when he pushes him into the nearby bathroom instead of taking him to his bunk. Adam locks the door behind them and turns to the nearest shower stall, gets the water running hot. “Strip,” he commands, taking his own jacket off and rolling up the sleeves of his button-up shirt, taking his glasses off before they fog up with steam.

He guides Keith to the stream of water, pushes him into it when he hesitates. The boy gasps at the scalding heat against his skin, flattens himself against the side of the shower to try and avoid it. Adam runs a hand down his back, rubbing warmth into his ass and thighs, drawing blood to the surface of his skin. He feels a twinge of arousal low in his gut as his hand squeezes over Keith's body, small and cowering beneath him. He needs to rinse Shiro's touch from it, reclaim it as his, mark it with incontrovertible proof of who Keith belongs to. Clearly he hadn't taught the boy that lesson thoroughly enough. It's time to break him down, start over from scratch so that Keith won't ever make that mistake again.

But he doesn't lose control of himself - a message given in volatile anger means nothing, is all too easy for Keith to write off. He has to make sure that Keith knows he's serious. This isn't an act done in hot-blooded revenge that Adam will regret in the morning, this is something planned, intentional, something Adam's been capable of all along. Keith needs to know that.

“Tell me what happened,” Adam says.

Keith bites his lip, tensing up with Adam’s hand roaming over his body. He only trembles, saying nothing.

“Well? Adam demands. “Did you two plan this? Did he ask you to go see him tonight?”

Keith shakes his head, swallows before finally answering. “No, I -- I just wanted to see him. I didn’t -- I wasn’t going to --”

Adam almost laughs. “It just happened, did it? Another helpless little accident, of course. Just like with me, right Keith?" He squeezes one of Keith's cheeks tight, making him gasp with a revolted, terrified shiver. "You’re just a passive victim. These things just happen to you. That’s what you like to tell yourself, isn’t it?”

Keith shakes his head with a pathetic whine, face twisting up with despair and horror as he watches Adam unbuckle his belt and pull it slowly out of the loops of his pants. Tears well up in his eyes and he starts breathing faster and harder, panicked as he anticipates what’s coming. Adam feels himself growing hard, Keith's fear only adding to his arousal.

“So what happened?” Adam asks again.

“He -- he asked me to stay,” Keith stammers. “It wasn’t -- we were just talking, I -- I didn’t think he was going to --”

“Going to what?” Adam asks when Keith cuts himself off. He folds the buckle of the belt in his palm then methodically loops the leather over itself, pulling it taut with a snap that reverberates around the room and makes Keith flinch. “What did he do, Keith? Tell me.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing as Adam pushes into his memory, violating and poisoning something that Keith’s trying to hold sacred. “He kissed me,” he whispers reluctantly.

Adam sighs, the image of it coming to rest behind his eyelids as he closes them. It sears his insides hot with anger, and his fist tightens around the belt in his grip as he imagines Shrio on Keith's mouth - that soft, pink gate to Keith's body that’s _his,_ rightfully belongs to nobody else but _him_ \- but he manages to hold himself together for now. He takes a couple of good breaths as the rage settles to his core, the marrow of his bones. He lets himself feel it thoroughly, fuel for the fire that's still to burn.

He takes a moment to think. At first he’d thought he'd misjudged the two of them, but perhaps this is exactly what he should have seen coming. He knows Shiro, knows him at his lowest moments from when Adam's brought him there himself, knows his deepest insecurities. Just because this mission finally proved that it's possible for Shiro's stubbornness to trump it, that doesn't mean that needy nature of his is gone. He's not surprised that Shiro jumped right into the arms of someone else the moment they broke up. Where he made his mistake is in failing to see whose arms it would be. Keith is the all too obvious choice that Adam overlooked, low-hanging fruit for Shiro, sweet and ripe and ready to devour. All he needed was a little nudge.

"Did you confess to him?" Adam asks, just to confirm what he already knows. "Tell him you love him?”

Keith makes an awful, pained noise under his breath, sniffing back tears as he gives a reluctant nod.

Adam sighs again, rubbing his temples. Okay. He can work with this.

He leans down, tilts his head towards the boy in a cruel sort of mock pity. Keith turns away from him, presses his cheek against the cold shower wall to try and hide.

"Keith,” he says, his voice low and serious, sympathetic. “You might think you know Takashi, but you don't. Not in the way I know him.” He strokes Keith’s hair gently, rubs his fingers over the back of his neck. “You need to understand - he doesn't love you back. He only used you to make himself feel better.”

Keith shakes his head, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Adam's words. “You don’t believe me?” he asks. “Well, you’ll see what he says tomorrow.”

Keith continues to ignore him. That's fine. Actions speak louder anyway, and Adam always taught best through demonstration.

He brings his other hand to the small of Keith’s back, letting the leather of the belt lick gently over his skin. “You know why I have to do this, don’t you, Keith? You understand that I have to teach you this lesson?”

Keith whimpers, voice wobbling when he finally speaks. “You don’t have to,” he pleads, turning to look up at Adam with desperation. “I won’t do it again, I -- just, please, delete that photo and we can fix this." He tucks wet fingers inside the waistband of Adam’s pants, pulling him closer and looking up at him with hopeful eyes. "I'll do anything you want," he whispers. "Let me make it up to you. Please."

Adam’s lips quirk, quietly amused at the way Keith's trying to play along. To his credit, he does get Adam's cock interested. But a simple, unpolished attempt at seduction is far too little for the mess Keith's got himself into here. He's got a long way to go before he's got a shot at outplaying Adam.

"You still really want to save him?" he asks, wrapping a hand around Keith's wrist to stop him from working open the button of his pants. "It's far more than he deserves." Adam pushes Keith's hair back from his forehead, frowning in though. Keith seems willing to do anything for Shiro, go to any lengths for him, and Adam despises it because he knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

But he's going about this wrong, he realizes, as he looks down at the imploring look in Keith’s eyes. His anger and jealousy have gotten in the way of his line of sight. Brute force has never been the way to get through to Keith, and he suspects that it alone will only make Keith more defiant, more confident in his victimhood. He may not be able to stop Keith's feelings for Shiro, but he can _use_ them, now more than ever. He smiles to the teeth, finally finding his sense of humor amongst all the shit Keith’s put him through tonight. He’s going to really put Keith's devotion to the test.

“I’m a generous man, Keith, so I’ll give you a choice. You want me to get rid of the evidence? I’ll do it. Really. I won’t tell a soul about this, and Takashi will walk away with no repercussions. That’s what you want, right?”

Adam watches the boy hesitate, visibly swallow before he answers, and he has to admit that his suspicion is wise. He’s fortunate that this offer happens to be entirely serious.

“Yes,” Keith nods, left with no other choice but to reluctantly trust Adam if he wants to rescue Shiro.

Adam grins, a mouth full of malice, and Keith shrinks beneath him. "It’s going to cost you, though,” he continues. “You'll have to take double the punishment. Take Takashi’s share for him.” He strokes Keith’s damp hair, runs a finger behind his ear and down his neck. “I’ll let one of you walk away from this, it’s up to you. Him, or yourself." He pauses, letting his words sink in. Keith swallows and closes his eyes as Adam runs the leather belt gently over his skin, a promise of what’s to come. "Well, Keith? Who do you want to save?”

Keith takes a shaky breath, steeling himself. “Him,” he says. “I -- I want to save him.”

Adam hums a quiet laugh. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He steps back and takes a handful of Keith's hair to turn his face, screwed up tight with fearful anticipation, his breath coming quick through his clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut. “Twenty each,” Adam says. “I think that's rather lenient of me, don't you agree?”

Keith nods obediently, and Adam laughs. “We'll see what you think once I'm done,” he says, and he raises his arm back for the first blow.

_Thwack._

Keith jolts with a cry as the leather connects with his wet skin. The noise from it reverberates through the room and he gasps, groaning and trying to scramble away from Adam but trapped by the hand in his hair and the painfully hot water that stings his abused skin when he turns into it. He makes a pathetic noise of distress and looks at Adam with pleading eyes, but when Adam only looks down at him with a cruel smile, raising his arm for another swing of the belt, Keith just squeezes his eyes shut again.

_Thwack._

Adam’s insides twist in pleasure as he strikes him. Swinging a belt over Keith’s ass is satisfying in a way he didn’t know he needed. He’s glad to finally dole out some much needed punishment to this brat, see the outcome of his work in the red stripes across his skin, the way he cries and flinches. His already half-hard cock swells up alongside the welts on Keith’s body, further encouraged by the gasping, moaning noises he makes, groaning and swearing between heavy breaths.

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

Judging by Keith’s shocked, disbelieving gasps, Adam gathers he’s never been properly disciplined before. It’s a shame. Maybe if he had been given some structure as a child, properly shown the consequences of his actions, he wouldn’t have turned into such a petulant, wilful little brat. But it’s not too late for Adam to correct the mistakes of his upbringing. A firm hand and some long-overdue authority in Keith’s life could finally allow him to flourish, and Shiro leaving gives Adam the opportunity to do so. Keith will never amount to anything with Shiro’s softness holding him back, but Adam knows what he needs. It’s time Keith learned it too.

Adrenaline and the rush of domination flow through Adam's veins as he strikes Keith, seductive and inviting, and it's almost impossible to resist giving himself over to it completely. It calls him to beat Keith harder, hit him again and again, mark his territory and teach Keith a lesson his body won’t let him forget. He feels almost high off it, more himself than he’s ever been with Keith falling apart so beautifully for him.

Adam strikes his ass, thighs, his lower back, each one forcing a jagged, raw cry from Keith’s throat. His whole body shakes but he stays where he is, manages to hold himself up with his fists braced on the shower wall. He grimaces bravely against the pain, demonstrating that fierce stubbornness and determination that Adam loves to break. The corner of his mouth curls sadistically at the display of devotion. All that love for Shiro, and what does Keith get from it? Nothing but heartbreak, pain and punishment, humiliation in the form of a belt over his pretty, pink ass like the obstinate child he is. Adam will show him just what his loyalty to Shiro gets him. And what betrayal of Adam will earn.

After the tenth pass of the belt over Keith's body, Adam stops to give him a break. Keith shakes as he tries to catch his breath, his body remaining tight and clenched up in anticipation of more until Adam releases the grip on his hair, switching back to gentle strokes of it instead. Keith groans and his body slumps against the wall, exhausted.

“So he kissed you,” Adam says thoughtfully, rubbing stinging hot water into Keith's sore skin with a gentle hand, listening to him hiss through his teeth. He can feel the warm, raised welts under his palm, sees broken blood vessels tracing the edges of where the belt has left behind stripes. They’re going to leave some satisfying bruises. “And you fucked him. That's not the whole story though, is it? What else? Did you suck him off?”

Keith resists answering at first, or maybe he's just speechless from the pain, but a hard yank of his hair is enough to snap him back to his senses. _“Ah-hhh_ \-- no,” he gasps. “He did -- he went down on me.”

Adam hums sweetly. “That must have been nice for you Keith. Takashi’s quite good at that, isn’t he? Did it feel good? Did he make you come?”

Keith swallows and nods reluctantly, eyes squeezed shut as if he can pretend none of this is happening if he just refuses to acknowledge it. But Adam won’t allow that. There’s no sympathy or concern as he pushes his way inside of Keith’s head, violates the memory and turns it into one of pain and misery.

“Speak up,” Adam says.

“Y-yes,” Keith sniffs, and when Adam threatens a hand at the roots of his hair again, he makes a better attempt. _“Yes,_ ah -- it was good, he -- he made me come.”

Adam straightens as he prepares for the next round of lashings. “Remember how good it felt, Keith, because you're never going to have him again."

_Thwack._

He hits him again, slow and methodical, pausing between each one to let the the pain settle in, allow Keith's body to unflinch before the next. Tears well up in Keith’s eyes, and by the end of the next ten strikes they’re spilling out of him uncontrollably, pathetic, ugly whimpering between each cry ripped from his throat. Still, he keeps himself standing upright despite the dangerous shaking of his legs. Adam's got to admit he’s a little impressed. But then again, he expected no less from Keith. Not when it’s Shiro at stake.

He pauses again, letting Keith rest for a moment. With a firm hand around Keith’s jaw, he turns his head towards him and gives a pitying look to his miserable face, covered in tears and snot and his own drool as he loses the ability to keep it inside his mouth.

“You've really hurt me, Keith,” Adam says. “You might think I'm a monster, but I have feelings too. Did you even think about how I would feel when you jumped into bed with someone else? Did you think about how it would hurt me?”

“I'm -- I’m sorry,” Keith sniffs, his words slurred from pain and crying. “I'm sorry, please.”

“Everything I've done for you and you show me no gratitude at all. Just betrayal. It hurts, Keith. I don't want to have to do this, but I have to make sure you understand if I’m going to be able to forgive you.”

Adam pulls his arm back again, but before he can lay another blow, Keith whimpers and throws his hands back, covering his backside.

“I thought we had a deal,” Adam says with a growl. “Unless you want me to ruin Takashi after all.” Keith shakes his head with a grimace but he can't bring himself to move his hands away, legs clamped tight together, whole body seized up.

Adam sighs. He finds his comm in his pocket, brings it out to show the photo from earlier to Keith, who blinks at it through teary eyes. “I can forward it to Admiral Sanda right now if you'd like,” Adam tells him, waving the picture tauntingly in Keith’s face. “It's not too late. Takashi will be off the mission just like that. How do you think he’ll feel, knowing he had to give up his dream because you weren’t strong enough?” Keith squeezes his eyes shut tight, and Adam grins. “Oh, but maybe that’s what you want. Was that your plan all along? Get him drunk, sleep with him, and get him kicked out so you can have him all to yourself? I knew you were a slut, Keith, but I didn’t know you were so devious.”

“N-no, that’s not --” Keith chokes. He takes a deep breath, steeling his resolve. "Don't send it, I'll -- just -- just give me a minute." With a great display of strength, he slowly brings his hands back to the wall, shaking and breathing in quick, shallow breaths. He crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his fists up by his neck to keep them in place. Sniffing back his tears, he reluctantly nods and waits for Adam to hit him again.

Adam smirks as he raises his arm. “Good boy, Keith. You're halfway there now.”

_Thwack._

This is what Keith needs, he thinks, a strange sort of tenderness for the boy creeping over him despite the stern, unforgiving flick of his wrist. This is good for him. A firm hand showing him love in the form of guidance, instilling a harsh but necessary lesson. Shiro might be the teacher that Keith wants, but it’s Adam that he needs. Keith can't see it now of course, but maybe one day he'll be able to. Maybe he’ll even thank Adam. Emotion that he isn’t sure how to name swells up in Adam’s chest, a mixture of aching love for the boy, caught up with the thurm of adrenaline and beautiful satisfaction as he carves art into Keith’s body. Keith seems to give him purpose. Perhaps he needs Keith just as much as Keith needs him.

Keith hangs his head low and sobs into his arms as Adam flogs him another ten times.

“This is for your own good, Keith,” Adam says as he gives him another breather. “I know it hurts, but Takashi doesn't love you. He's leaving you behind. You need to remember that.” He strokes the hair back from Keith’s face, wipes the tears from his eyes. "I care about you, Keith. But I’ve only got so much patience. I can't keep forgiving this kind of behavior. You understand, right?”

Keith makes a choking noise in his throat, teary and raw, and his shoulders shake with something that borders dangerously on laughter. “You’re insane,” he whispers. He sounds delirious, out of his mind with pain and exhaustion. “You’re completely fucked, you psycho.”

Sudden, unbridled rage flashes through Adam and he snarls at the boy, grabs a fistful of his hair and slams the side of his head against the wall. “Watch your fucking mouth, you little shit,” he growls, leaning down so that his mouth hovers right against Keith’s ear. “That little attitude of yours is going to cost you. We’re not leaving here until you learn how to behave.”

He swings the belt around again, and if Keith thought it hurt before, he’s soon to realize that Adam had been holding back. He won’t take that mercy for granted again.

Keith yelps louder than ever as Adam flogs him over and over, not giving him a chance to recover before hitting him again. "You're mine,” he snarls. “Do you understand me? Not his. Not anyone else's. Mine."

Keith squeals like an animal as Adam beats him, crying and defeated, broken. _“Ah!_ F-fuck -- _hahh_ \-- o-okay! I’m sorry, please, please stop.” He’s wilting now, slumped against the wall, and Adam suspects he’d collapse to the floor if he weren’t holding him up by his hair.

But Adam’s not done yet, Keith’s defiance having fueled a fresh wave of anger. He beats Keith on the ass until his arm aches, the satisfying sound of it flying through the room, until Keith can only sob miserably. “Who do you belong to?” Adam growls. “Say it.”

 _"Y-you_ , please, please I can't --"

Adam strikes him hard again. “Say my name, Keith, don’t play dumb.”

 _"Aahh --_ Adam! Adam, please, I’m sorry, fuck.” He’s babbling, sobbing hysterically. His whole body shakes and his fingers dig into his own skin, tearing red scratch marks in lines over his own shoulders and chest. “Please Adam, I’m sorry, please, I can’t --”

Adam finally releases him and Keith drops to the floor. He grunts as his knees hit the hard tile, Adam’s belt dropping with a clang right after him. “Please, please,” he whimpers, as if he can’t tell that Adam’s stopped. “I’m sorry, I can’t take any more, please.”

Adam drags him over to kneel in front of him, props him up on his knees again, the boy making a wet mess of his pants as he clings to them to hold himself up. He unzips but doesn’t pop the button, just pushes his achingly hard cock through the gap and strokes it firmly, tilting Keith’s head up to see. Keith looks up at him with glazed-over eyes, and Adam smacks his red face with it a few times. Keith winces and closes his eyes as he obediently opens his mouth.

Adam pushes inside him with no hesitation, tearing through strings of saliva to the cave of Keith’s mouth. He pushes Keith’s head down on him then rolls his hips to make the boy gag, his throat contracting around Adam’s cock, trying helplessly to expel the intrusion. Adam just fucks his face mercilessly, jerking his hips and moving Keith’s head back and forth to meet him, only letting up every so often to let Keith draw in a wet, gasping breath. Fresh tears squeeze their way out of Keith’s eyelids, rolling beautifully down his cheeks, and Adam groans at the sight of them. There’s something about fucking Keith until he cries that sets him off, stirs some wild beast lurking deep within him. His deep down nature is violent, sadistic, and hungry to be acknowledged. Insatiable, it only grows the more he feeds it.

He pulls out, yanks Keith’s head back by the hair and slaps him twice across the cheek. “Hope you’re paying attention,” he growls. “This is what you get when you disrespect me.”

Keith just moans something wordless, lungs heaving until Adam pushes back inside his mouth. Luckily for him, this isn’t going to take much longer.

“Keep crying, baby, that's it,” Adam says, fucking him at a rough, quick pace again. “Let me see how sorry you are.” Keith's long past being able to contain all the wet, sloppy noises he makes, moaning and sobbing and gagging around his cock, and Adam groans, feeling orgasm start to swell in him, lift him up off his feet along with this power trip he’s riding. He pulls out of Keith’s mouth, slaps his cheeks again left-right-left and then jerks himself with a firm hand around the base of his cock. “You gotta learn this lesson properly. Naughty boys get punished.” He bends over and shoves his tongue into Keith's mouth, kisses him roughly, biting at his lips until Keith wails, then pulls away and spits Keith's saliva back into his mouth.

He shoves Keith's face back towards his cock and slaps him with it a few times. Abusing Keith like this feels far too good, and he's lost control of himself even though he had planned not to. But he can't bring himself to care - Keith provoked him, brought this on himself, and he needs to pay for that. It's time he stops being coddled like a child.

Keith gasps for breath and then groans as Adam pushes back inside him, knowing that this time is going to be the last. He's so, so close, climbing towards a peak as he thrusts another dozen strokes inside Keith's mouth, rubbing against his tongue thick with tears and pushing into the velvety back of his throat. “Fuck yes, baby, that's it,” he growls as the intensity builds up in him, testing the limits of what he can contain. “This what you want, you little slut? Want me to come all over you? Show you who you belong to?”

Keith doesn't respond, silent except for the wet squelching noises of his throat as Adam fucks into it. “Fuck, god, _yes,”_ Adam groans, murmuring filthy nonsense and letting his eyes fall shut. The climax twists in his gut, spiraling higher and higher, and he pushes Keith all the way down to the root of his cock and rolls his hips a few more desperate times until he feels his insides finally snap open like a trigger’s been pulled.

He quickly pulls out with a groan, holds Keith’s head back and jerks himself off as he comes all over Keith’s face. His whole body shudders, singing as the endorphins of release wash through him, and he’s just about floored by how hard and fast he came, legs shaking and head dizzy. He forces his eyes open to watch as the last few pumps shoot out of him, streak across Keith’s face like a work of art. He presses his cock against Keith’s upper lip, working out a last few spurts and making a mess of Keith’s face. The boy coughs when some gets up his nose.

Adam moans and pushes the head of his cock back into Keith’s mouth, thrusting slowly, shallowly. He comes down from the high and realizes how tightly Keith’s clinging to him, weighing him down with shaking hands clenched in Adam’s pants. He pulls his softening cock out and releases the hand in Keith’s hair, and the boy falls to hands and knees at his feet.

Adam tucks himself away, bends to pick his belt up off the floor and tilt Keith’s head back. His face is filthy with come, and Adam fills his palm with water and starts to wash it off. “You took the whole punishment,” he remarks, voice suddenly softer now he’s gotten what he wanted. “I wasn’t sure that you could, but you did so well.” He sweeps the hair back from Keith’s forehead and kisses him there, smiling. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

He turns off the shower and tries to help Keith up, but the boy is dead weight in his hands, completely unable to stand. There’s no towel, so Adam improvises. He gathers up their things and lays his jacket over Keith, then gets his hands underneath his battered body and scoops him up, carries him against his chest. Keith clings his arms weakly around Adam’s neck, sniffling miserably as Adam side-steps them out of the bathroom and down the hall. It’s a risk, but the walk isn’t far, and risk doesn’t really faze Adam like it used to.

They make it back to Keith’s room, and he lays the boy down in his bed, pulls the covers over him. Keith closes his eyes immediately, body shutting down to recover. Adam sits on the bed next to him and strokes the hair from his face.

“Before you sleep, Keith.” He pulls up the photo on his comm again and shows it to Keith. The boy peers up at it with one eye half open, and Adam makes sure Keith’s watching when he taps the delete button. “See? It’s gone.” He smiles at Keith, showing his teeth in a wicked half-moon grin. “It’s like tonight never even happened.”

Keith’s eyes fall shut again, and he he lets himself fall into the mercy of sleep.

Adam leans down and kisses his forehead softly, pulling back a little to look at Keith’s face, brush his hair back. He’s beautiful and ruined, an angel fallen from grace, and Adam’s all of a sudden hit with an overwhelming feeling of quiet poignancy. All malice from earlier is gone, and now he just feels empty, a strange lump in his throat as he looks at Keith. He tries to swallow it down but it sticks, not quite guilt but close to it. A sharp claw scratching at the back of his brain, picking open old scabs with a twinge of pain and strange, dissociated horror. He shakes his head to try and clear it, buries the feeling down deep.

It’s the come-down after the endorphin high, he knows that. He shouldn’t feel bad. Keith had this coming, and Adam had no choice but to put him in line. Still, he feels strange enough that he seeks out comfort from the boy, slides fingers under his head and half lays down on him, nuzzles his face into his neck and presses gentle kisses to his skin. He stays like that a minute, Keith’s scent and the heat of his body helping to make him feel a little better.

He can’t stay, though. It’s just about time for him to return to his quarters, shower and shave and change into a clean uniform before leaving out of his own room like he’s supposed to. More than that, he wants out of here, away from this awful feeling, out of this claustrophobic room. He rises, tucking Keith’s blanket protectively around his neck, and gives one last, lingering look to his exhausted face. His cheeks are deathly pale now, mouth hanging open in his sleep, eyelashes still wet with tears. Adam tries again to swallow the strange lump in his throat, but he can’t. All he can do is get out of here.

He doesn’t look back as the door slides shut behind him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the fear that you’re up against](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18179198) by [DawnieWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnieWrites/pseuds/DawnieWrites)




End file.
